This Past that Makes Us
by Kuss von der Sonne
Summary: Prologue: Back before Draenor's sundering, the Draenei and Orcish people lived in relative peace. However, when two Draenei children wander from the trading caravan into Orc territory, that peace is put to the test. Rating defenitley for later chapters.
1. Prologue 1: Child's Adventure

((Okay, so this is my first WoW fanfic that I've put up on THIS site. cheers The story will probably be a bit long, so the Prologue is in 3 parts. The rating is pretty tame in the Prologues, but it will defenitely kick up in the later chaptersfor violence and sexuality (the American "must have" you know :b). So...warning...yeah. o And yes, I do play Wow (Horde and Alliance--yes, I am a faction whore), and I am trying to bring back the heavy RP to the Thorium Brotherhood realm. Anyway--away with you, READ! And kindly review, because I don't know who all's read it unless you do. Besides...reviews make me write faster... Though I should have part 3 up by tomorrow afternoon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft, however I do wish I owned a Night Elf :b

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"Grogg mesh en magg, gron'ah!" A bout of heavy, guttural laughter followed on the tails of the strange words.

Large, luminescent blue eyes shone with childish fascination at the very sound; the Orcish language was a strange and wondrous thing. Then again, all things new were strange and wondrous to a small Draenei child.

She watched with unabated curiosity from the safety of behind her father's hooves, small hands clutching the familiar limb as she peered cautiously from behind his knees. He treaded lightly with his shifting weight, careful not to trample upon his only daughter.

Trading caravans. A simple and fairly frequent operation between the main inhabitants of Draenor, The only time where Draenei and Orc alike interacted, in a practice that was just as useful for maintaining peace as it was for trading goods. A simple tradition in the warm seasons, but an epic adventure in the mind of a child.

The Orcish Huntress chuckled heartily at something her father said in the same, rough language, her brown skin contorting with the expression. When the Orc laid eyes upon her, however, the child froze in place. The gesture was sudden, and unexpected. Immediately, she looked up to her parent for instruction, dismayed to find that his own eyes flickered with amusement.

"Go on, little one, greet Huntress Dursa," he insisted gently, his words now the familiar, musical tune of their own language. She hesitated, caught in the snare of her own shyness at suddenly being exposed.

"Aedion, do not dishonor," he said, his tone still gentle but more urgent. It was a command, not a request. As if to prevent any other option, his hoof slid to the side across the earth, depriving her of any place to hide.

The Huntress—Durs--watched the child with a fascination only tempered by her adulthood. A slight smile twisted around the smooth ivory of her tusks, an expression that only further confused the small blue child behind the Trader's feet.

Sucking in a quick breath, Aedion lowered her eyes to the ground. This was in part a universal gesture of submission, and also because she found the other female's gaze to be piercing, no matter what her intentions. The striking array of strange piercings and blatant tattoos did not in the least bit lean the Orc towards subtlety. Folding her palms across her chest, she bent at the waist in the proper greeting from a youngling to an elder, before scampering back behind the safety of her father's body and the shelter of his muscular tail.

Both adults gave hearty chuckles, a knowing sound shared by any experienced in the ways of parenting. Feeling braver once back in the safety of her parent's shadow, Aedion stole another glance at the Huntress.

"She is young, Huntress, forgive her reluctance."

"Bah… Lucky I would be if my boys did other than beat their own chests were they in her spot," she murmured.

Taeredas nodded, understanding her well despite his newness to the Orcish tongue.

"Children seem to be…many numbers with your people?" he commented.

Dursa grunted her affirmation. "Yes, many children make tribe strong. Children bring honor and glory to one's clan!" She nodded once at her own words, swelling with some pride at the mere mentioning of her people.

"Draenei have few children, or is it only rare they come with you?"

Taeredas shook his head, causing his dark indigo locks of hair to fall from their place. "Very rare they are, more precious than the rarest of gems."

The Huntress's eyes seemed to sparkle at that. "Ah! And speaking of gems, Draenei…"

Taeredas laughed at her implication, nodding his agreement. "Yes, I see… I have brought the ones you liked best, last season…"

Reaching into the mess of one of his many packs, the Draenei deftly snatched a small pouch and offered it confidently to the eager Huntress before him. With the contents emptied in her palm, she scrutinized every gleam and sparkle with her eyes, holding one against the sun every so often in her examination. She knew little of the gems' details or properties, but well of its rarities and difficulties in obtaining them. They made fine things for ornaments of ceremony and stature markings, and were only obtainable by Orcs through such trades with the cleft-hoofed people.

She grunted, nodding her satisfaction whilst the many beads in her hair danced with the motion.

"Yes, yes, these red ones do well." She said, clearly pleased. "These gems are of your own hand?"

Taerades scoffed good naturedly at the suggestion. "Hardly! I have a way with beasts, not gems. Those are the work of my mate, who is skilled in the art of gems."

Pocketing the given pouch, her arms soon became heavy with the burden of embroidered treasures and leathers tanned with the greatest of Orcish skill. The Draenei, easily matching her strength of not exceeding, took the burden so that it rested upon one of his broad shoulders.

"Come! I help you take this to your Great Tusk, for there is more." She said, waving her hand towards the well traveled path. It took a moment for Taeredas to realize she spoke of his Elekk.

As the Orcish Huntress hunkered to gather more goods for trade, he again caught the eye of his fascinated offspring. He couldn't help but smile at her look of wonderment.

"_Indala_, go find Shat'tau and let him know that we leave soon. The sun will soon fall from the sky," he said.

Short tousles of black hair flickered in the air as she nodded her head rapidly, eager for the chance to run across the trading grounds. She whirled around and readied to spring in a joyous leap until one of his heavy hooves planted firmly in front of her. She gazed back at his eyes with some confusion, small tail curling in automatic obedience.

"Aedion…I want to see you on the back of Ir'daj when I return to leave," he reminded her firmly. She nodded once more her compliance, though less enthusiastically. Ir'daj was one of two of the family's Elekks, and a grouchy one at that. But when it was time to leave, it was time, and the privilege to join him on these trading ventures was granted only on the promise of strict obedience.

He exhaled his satisfaction, touching her mind briefly with approval. "Go now, hurry!"

With an excited leap, Aedion made her way through the sea of traders, Orc and Draenei alike.

--

Past the brown trunks of Orc legs along with the more graceful ones of her own people, Aedion flew through the sea of legs, loud voices, and permeating smells as the two lines of traders began to wrap up the days transactions. No one seemed to notice the small child slip through the orderly chaos with both the likeness and grace of a fawn. Graceful, at least, until she stumbled into the earth with an unexpected collision.

Catching her breath, Aedion met the familiar eyes of one of her own, and more importantly, one of her own age.

"Aed!" he grinned, grabbing her hand and hastily pulling her up from the earth. "Come, let's go!"

"Go?" she chimed in puzzlement, leaning back on her hooves to resist his tug in another direction. He turned back around and blinked once, dark brown hair splayed unkempt and almost comically about his face. "Well…yes! Just for a moment…you want to see something really neat?"

Aedion almost whimpered, instantly tempted. "But… I have to go find father's friend…and if I—"

He gave another insistent tug on her arm. "Oh, they'll find each other, they always do! Don't you see?"

Aedion blinked.

His voice lowered to a whisper. "Now's the best time to _explore_ when they're really busy…!"

"But….If I'm not at Ir'daj…"

"We'll be back by then," he insisted.

"And if we're not?"

He playfully poked her. "Daenan was right, girls ARE scared easily!"

Aedion frowned, and pouted her dissaproval. "Nuh-UH!"

"Uh-HUH!"

"Nu-UH!"

"Prove it!" he grinned, goading her successfully.

"Fine! I'll go, but if he gets mad, I'll tell him its all your fault!"

He nodded eagerly. "Okay, come on!"

Aedion grinned back at him, her child mind, easily swayed and distracted, already forgetting the unfulfilled duty at hand.


	2. Prologue 2: Innocence

From horn to hoof, Aedion radiated excitement. With about all the grace of an Elekk calf, the two fled the crowds of animals and traders and crashed through the Peninsula underbrush. A though in the back of her mind tugged at her to turn back, but the excitement and risk of exploration was too great to pass up. The forest seemed to be an unending yield of wondrous and mysterious life, full of strange plants and colorful insects buzzing by their ears. Surely a few minutes wouldn't hurt…

In her reverie, Aedion collided into Tjaeden for the second time that day, bumping squarely into his backside. She looked at him questioningly, but his eyes did not meet her gaze. He instead looked all about him, eventually unfocusing his eyes as he allowed his other senses to concentrate.

Every muscle bunched and cinched under his cobalt skin as he stood stick-still; even his small tail remained motionless. Aedion stood close, reflecting his tension and leering at the surrounding. She knew that look, knew that posture. It was similar to one her father sometimes got, akin in fact, to all natural hunters. Though she was curious what set his suspicions, she knew better than to inquire aloud and give away their position. Tjaeden was too young and inexperienced for his path to be determined, but Aedion did not deny the power of instinct.

Slowly, Tjaeden fumbled for a crude practice knife tucked at his side. It was likely more useful as flint than a weapon, but something was better than nothing.

With a shrill howl, two dark forms burst from the foliage and charged.

Well, charged, at least, until they skittered to a halt and balked like startled dogs. Two Orc younglings around their own size matched the equally startled Draenei in an almost comical standoff.

Aedion wasn't sure whose eyes could possibly get any wider. After what felt like minutes, one of the young Orcs grunted, the first gesture extended. A grin twisted around the small nubs of his tusks.

"You look funny," he said simply.

Tjaeden gave a defiant snort and ground his hoof into the dirt. "YOU look funny!" he shot back, stumbling slightly over the Orcish words.

The brows of the Orc younglings rose, and Aedion touched a sense of caution into Tjaeden's mind. It was rather unlikely that they would attack (considering especially their first attempt), for they seemed as equally curious. Neither pair had witnessed younglings of the other race.

The two Orcs, though roughly the same height as them, already had more developed muscle than Tjaeden, who would not gain such bulk until much later. She sensed that any scuffle may not see to them favorably.

"Ragnar.." one of the young Orcs murmured, "they have tusks on their head!"

"And you have horns in your mouth!" Aedion countered, surprising even Tjaeden, who snickered.

The other Orc youngling—Ragnar, apparently—took a step forward, causing Tjaeden to tense further.

"But you DO look funny, you have legs like a Talbuk!" he insisted.

Aedion frowned. She had seen talbuks before, usually slain and carried across the backs of the hunting parties her father led. It was only recently that they had began to venture using the agile creatures as mount. She wasn't sure what to make of the correlation.

"Maybe because nature knows how to make a leg proper!" Aedion shot back, glancing at Ragnar's knees, "I don't even know how you run…"

To this borderline insult, both Ragnar and Durkan puffed their newly muscled chests proudly.

"I bet we could run TWICE as fast as any blue-skinned cleft-hoof cub!" Ragnar challenged. Durkan echoed his agreement with a guttural growl.

Tjaeden and Aedion both stepped forward to the challenge, side by side. He would not be alone in this.

"I'll run so fast, you'll be lucky to see my tail cross the finish marker!" Tjaeden boasted, meeting the other two males with childish confidence.

"Bah! No way!"

"Uh-HUH!"

"Fine!" Ragnar barked, stepping inches from Tjaeden. The young Draenei moved to keep himself between the Orcs and Aedion at all times.

"Let's prove it!"

Both Tjaeden and Aedion nodded their acceptance, eyes narrowed.

And so it was. For the remaining hours of the fading afternoon, both pairs engaged in several competitions of strength and speed, from races and scuffles, to who could hold their breath the longest or shout the loudest. The youngling Orcs were strong even in early childhood, but in their youth and inexperience, they lacked a warrior's speed and agility—qualities that the Draenei clearly had. All in all, the competitive afternoon echoed with as much laughing and playful banter as boasting and new, inventive challenges.

Aedion giggled, and set her rump on the ground while she caught her breath. Moments later, however, her stomach gave a demanding rumble, reminding her of other needs. Ragnar blinked from his place on the ground across from her, and promptly handed her a plump, purple fruit. Hours earlier, this simple, kind gesture would have surprised her, but it seemed somehow only natural.

"It's called Og'nah," he said, pointing to the fruit. Aedion merely nodded and didn't bother to answer as she bit greedily into its soft, purple flesh.

"Yes, we take this fruit too," Tjaeden nodded, "we call it tzadaeiz,"

Durkan and Ragnar ogled. "…Call it what?"

"Tzadaeiz," he repeated.

The young Orcs made several failed attempts to repeat the strange Draenic word before shaking their heads in defeat.

"Og'nah is much better," Durkan said finally. Ragnar grunted his agreement.

Tjaeden only grinned.

Suddenly, Ragnar stood to his feet, brushing the clods of earth from his hands unto his leather wrap.

"This talk of food makes me hungry…!" he announced; Durkan began to stand as well. "I must go back to clan grounds."

Aedion's eyes went wide. As she looked up to the sky to find the sun nearly gone into a fine, fiery wisp, dark juices fell forgotten from her chin. The trading caravan! She had forgotten all about it! She and Tjaeden exchanged woeful glances, knowing that they had been gone far longer than intended. Aedion nearly whimpered at the thought of having to return and face her father.

"We need to get back…" she murmured urgently, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Tjaeden shrugged anxiously as he studied their surroundings. "I don't know where we are, though… I bet we went far…"

Both Ragnar and Durkan looked fascinated and wary by the full sound of the Draenic language.

"What's happening?" Durkan asked with curiosity.

Aedion turned her face to look back at them.

"We...don't know how to get back.," she hesitantly admitted.

"To the trading grounds?"

They both nodded.

Ragnar brightened. "Oh! Should have said so. We'll show you--"

"You'll show them NOTHING…!"

The dark voice, thick with malice and deep with age, cause Tjaeden and Aedion to leap to their small hooves. Aedion looked to their Orc companions, but they appeared to be as equally caught off guard. A rustling and snapping of branches redirected her attention a few feet behind the young Orcs.

Bursting from the trees with a horrific snarl, a great Orcess stood before the four, in all of her fierce and massive glory. Her array of piercings and tattoos even across her shaven scalp were a decorative testament to her ferocity and skill. Her well developed but still decidedly female musculature was enough to make most foes think twice, if her murderous glare didn't. A predator and warrior in every aspect, it was striking seeing the vast difference between the Orcs and their young side by side.

Aedion huddled close to Tjaeden, for the instinct of strength in numbers. Her luminescent eyes fell over the female's twin serrated axes and necklaces adorned with the many claws and teeth of powerful beasts. Fierce and proud, like the Huntress Dursa. Only, unlike Dursa, this one met her and Tjaeden with hostility, fury contorting her brown-skinned features.

"Mother…" Durkan murmured lowly. He kept his head low in submission to her. A barking snarl escaped her lips as the Orcess turned her face to look upon her offspring; Tjaeden's eyes widened further at the palm print tattooed across her cheek, the color of warm beast blood.

"You have disappointed me, my son," she growled. Aedion couldn't tell if she heard a hint of regret in her voice or if it was only imagined. Durkan flinched as if he had been struck.

"And YOU Ragnar—what would your father have to say if he knew his pup was infringing borders with cleft-hoof pups?"

Ragnar's eyes flickered with an unidentified motion, and he shot the Draenei a regretful glance before lowering his eyes.

The Orcess turned a blue eye to the Draenei and advanced slowly, the claws and teeth of her adornments clacking as she walked. Aedion pressed close to Tjaeden, and he to her; she could feel him trying to control his trembling, though she was faring no better. The Orcess towered over them utterly, nearly as tall as her own Father. Yet, the female's sinister intentions made her seem as if she loomed overhead at a far greater proportion.

"Have we not TOLD you, Ragnar and Durkan, that it is dishonorable to mingle with the strangers…?" she spoke bitingly, yet stretching her words for emphasis. She circled Aedion and Tjaeden, speaking to her younglings yet never tearing her eyes from her adopted prey, who hardly came to her knees.

"They are wolves in talbuk's clothing, my son…" she glowered, her circle around the frightened children slowly tightening. Aedion glanced around for any escape chance possible, but even without trying she knew that the Orcess's axe would find her neck faster than she could cry out. Trouble or no trouble, she wished her father was here. The thought made her whimper in regret. If she had just listened…

"But…mother, we only--" but Durkan got no further as a sudden snarl from his parent cut him off.

"No!" she cried, straightening her back and half-facing the youngling of her blood and her kin's. "Do you dare say that the words of our Cheiftain Ner'zhul are a lie?"

Not daring to imply such blasphemy, Durkan shrunk back, not looking up again. Aedion glanced to Ragnar hopefully, though she doubted that he would be any more effective against this Orcess than she or Tjaeden.

The Orcess lightly fingered the hilts of her axes as she continued to circle, calming from her outburst some. "For generations, we have been wary of the strangers. Even now, whilst the other clans mingle and cast away things rightly ours, we Shadowmoon have always been cautious…" She shot another glance at her young.

"I will not have you, who are to be superior warriors, be swayed and tempted by the lies these ones say…!"

"Honored Gre'dal, you are not yourself…" Ragnar dared, tensing himself in preparation for a blow from her hand. It did not come. Instead, the Orcess chuckled darkly, to the surprise of all, and tilted her head as she examined the Draenei children. "See? They already began to sway you from the path of Honor…!"

Suddenly, her strong, sharp-nailed hand reached downwards with surprising agility and pulled Aedion into the air by the horns. Aedion yelped sharply, flailing briefly before she decided that would be of no use—the Orcess still had a free hand in which to cleave her. Her eyes widened and watered in terror.

"Perhaps I shall toss you in the river for your kind to find…?"

Aedion squeaked, squirming slightly as she vainly tried to escape. "B-but—I don't swim!"

"Ah..." Gre'dal cooed, "That would be SUCH a misfortune…" Her teeth flashed in a satisfied grin. Aedion squirmed more insistently. The female may think that she was protecting her younglings, but she was clearly out of her mind.

As quickly as she had been ripped from the ground however, the Orcess suddenly dropped her, sending Aedion to the ground with a painful thud. A furious howl escaped from her lungs, and when Aedion opened her eyes, she could see Tjaeden's flimsy knife embedded almost wholly into the brown flesh of her captor's thigh. A brazen, selfless act on Tjaeden's part, but now that it was done, he was unsure what to do, and the Orcess took that hesitance to send him flying into the trunk of a nearby tree. Aedion yelped again in shock. In all of her short life so far, she had been well sheltered and cared for—never had she seen true violence apart from that of the hunt. But those were animals...

She called to the foliage where Tjaeden's body lay, but she received not even a rustle in response. Aedion pursed her lips tightly as a new wave of fear overtook her. Something cracked. The child whirled around to find the Orcess nearly upon her, holding in hand a deadly, serrated axe. Aedion sat there helplessly, eyes wide; the metal glinted along the blade in a final display of light before she tightly shut her eyes.

The fatal strike never came to pass.

Even with her eyes tightly closed, Aedion could feel the great presence of the Orcess recede as something collided horribly and her weight fell heavily to the earth.

Aedion opened her eyes, just in time to witness her Father bellow a furious roar, a roar not at all unlike the ones of Dursa's highmane lion. Feet wide apart and pole-arm raised, his blade was as deadly and serrated as her axes. Luminescent eyes of his narrowed sharply as his brow furrowed in rage, the end of his tail flickering angrily. The last rumbles of the tremendous roar escaped past snarling lips, declaring himself a force not to be reckoned with.


	3. Prologue 3: Eye for an Eye

**AN:** Okay! So... took a bit longer than I thought to get these up, but I did it! A week late, but I did. So, as I may have mentioned before this long-ass prologue is supposed to be in 3 parts before we actually get into the heart of the story. WEEELLL...I took more artistic liberty and it will now be FOUR... I just decided that if I crunched the last of it all into Part 3 of the Prologue, it would be all too much. SO--Here it is and enjoy! It makes my day when people review, so please do--even if anonymously. Part 4 should be up later tonight or tomorrow morning:D

Also, many MANY thank yous for _ShiningPillarOfVirtue_ and _ALF_ for giving me wonderful reviews! The feedback is always appreciated, and any comments or questions will be responded to promptly. Well then--onward!

Disclaimer: Still don't own World of Warcraft, and I still down own that damn Night Elf sigh :b

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Aedion remained rooted the spot with newfound shock; never had she heard her Father--or another Draenei, for that matter--make a sound like that.

Gre'Dal caught her breath quickly that the large male had knocked out of her from the sheer force of his impact. The Orcess cursed herself for allowing herself to be caught so off guard; however, she would not grant them the satisfaction of exposing her surprise. She hauled herself unto her feet; her axes drawn expertly into her hands within the blink of an eye; with confidence, she faced Taeredas.

However, that assuredness faltered as several other Draenei burst from the cover of foliage to stand rather orderly just behind him. They were nearly all female, but their dark expressions and raised crossbows gave no doubt in Gre'Dal's mind that they would run her though with but a word.

Hm…so they traveled in packs, just as her own people…and it was clear who their leader was. She hadn't expected them to track their younglings so soon, or so efficiently.

She was a warrior—she did not fear death. But a good warrior knew when to pick her battles, and fighting a losing one in front of her young was rather short of ideal and glorified. She looked Taeredas over evenly, examining him closely. He was large, likely enough to rival her own mate, yet made twice as dangerous with pups to defend.

"You're crimes against us are severe, Shadowmoon warrior—what has provoked such spite?" one of the females spoke, never taking a hair's breadth off her arrow's aim. Gre'dal grunted in surprise—the Draenei's Orcish was good, too good; her people were becoming too comfortable among these cleft-hoofed strangers.

Aedion nearly yelped as she felt strong, large hands pluck her from the ground by her middle, though by the feel and scent, she instantly knew them to be a Draenei's.

"Shat'tau!"

"Shh! Little one, stay quiet!" he said urgently, whisking her from her place behind her father and retreating back behind the protection of the archers. Aedion leaned against his chest and continued to tremble violently. Though she would rather be in the arms of her Father, any comfort was welcome. It was, after all, common in Draenic society for the community to parent the young as much as the parents themselves did.

"But...what about--" she insisted.

"Hush! Trust me in that I have taken you from danger. You are far too young to see what is likely to occur. Someday you'll understand--and thank me." Shat'tau explained, carrying her protectively and eyeing the forest around him as if anything presented a potential danger.

His heavy hoofs picked quickly and quietly through the underbrush with a grace belying his strength and size. For the many minutes, they said nothing to each other; Aedion was still trying to make sense of things and Shat'tau did not press the issue, soothing her instead with his mind until she ceased to tremble.

A heavy rumble presented a familiar sound to Aedion's ears, and she turned her face away from Shat'tau's shirt to see Ir'daj and Eron tethered abreast from one another to a nearby tree. The Elekk's swayed their massive heads and blew impatient snorts of hot air from their trunks upon catching sight and smell of the Draenei.

Aedion nearly balked when she saw the many other Elekk, Cleft-hooves, Talbuk, and other such beasts of burden lined up far behind them. With all of the animals and people present, it had to be at least half of the caravan. Aedion's cheeks darkened blue in embarrassment--she had held up all of these people!

Instantly, she wrapped her tail around her body and tried to make herself as small as possible against Shat'tau's broad chest, hoping to pass by invisibly. No such luck. Immediately, several hands and jovial voices surrounded her, forcing her from her protective curl. Blinking in confusion, she could only allow it as she was handed off from one person to the next in dozens of pairs of arms by the minute; all of them celebrating and many praising "The Light," most of the females fussing over her and inspecting her ears, nose, skin, and eyes.

One of twelve children in the entire city of Furahlon had returned to them whole and alive, certainly a cause for celebration. Little Aedion hardly understood this though, as her mind whirled about her Father, the Orcs, and Tjaeden.

She gasped quietly, remembering. Tjaeden!

Aedion's face fell, unbeknownst to the woman who was joyfully running her fingers through her short black hair.

A few silent tears fell from her dimming blue eyes, ignorant how to cope with something so morbid as such a young age. Trading caravan's were one of her most favorite things to be among, and now she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to go among one again. She slumped in her handler's arms.

"Oh! _Indala_, you have tears!" the woman said in sympathetic dismay, holding her out in front at arms length. Aedion couldn't find it in herself to say anything.

"_Ee-ly_, little one, you have had quite a day," she said softly, bringing her back into her arms against her soft bosom. A small puff of a sigh escaped Aedion's lips—the embrace reminded her of her mother, who was undoubtedly waiting for them to return. She felt a little better at the thought of her mother.

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Gre'Dal stalked back and forth like a cornered predator, glowering and meeting Taeredas's raised snarl with her own. Her strong fingers flexed constantly around the worn leather of her ax-handles, but she dared not raise one with so many arrows trained on her heart.

Her dark eyes flickered from face to face, settling finally on Taeredas once more. She snorted her disappointment at noticing his youngling was no longer present. She still would have liked to impress a lesson.

"Well, Shadowmoon? What say you?"

Gre'Dal nearly spat at the sound of her own glorious language spilling from the mouth of that cleft-hoofed female. "I have _nothing_ to say to you!" she snarled, tusks glinting in the fading light of twilight.

"You have **everything** to say to us, Orcess!" Taeredas nearly roared. A full-bellied snarl echoed the Draenei's sentiments; the Orcess was surprised to see that it came from a great silverback wolf by her opponent's side, hackles raised and teeth flashing. Wolves were fine creatures—revered and honored by her people as hunting partners and mounts—it was a fall from grace in her opinion to see them loyal at the stranger's hooves.

The other female behind Tearedas spoke up again. "Your clan stands alone from your neighbors in that you will not trade with us—this distance we have honored by keeping ours. We--"

"Honored..?!" Gre'Dal made a harsh barking sound that took the Draenei a moment to realize was laughter. "You have not kept your distance, or we would not BE here! You send your young to corrupt ours!"

A few of the Huntresses shared disbelieving side-glances.

She chuckled darkly, still pacing back and forth; her gaze and shoulders never turned away from the other pack. "All this time… For generations, my clan has suspected ill intentions from the strangers… and all this time, we were _right_!"

One of the females snorted in a mixture of contempt and disbelief. "What could we possibly gain from releasing our young—which are so few—to your territory and your mercy?" A few of her sisters in arms began to speak up in concurrence.

"Enough…!" Taeredas commanded, silencing them all. By the unabated flare in their eyes, Gre'Dal had a good idea that they had much more to say on the matter, and it was only by reluctant obedience that they kept silent.

His eyes, brooding with restrained fury, slid back from his comrades to the newly marked foe before him. "Raliyu—see to Tjaeden, and tell me what you see." He said lowly; still his eyes never wavered from Gre'Dal's, and nor hers from his.

One of the archers did as she was told and broke formation to hurry to the base of tree where the first youngling fell. His small body was obscured by the bushes, but the Draenei had no difficulty in finding him.

Silence. A long, tense silence, the air thick with a tension yet unnamed. After several eternal moments, the female lifted her gaze from the youngling which she knelt by, to address her kin. Her lips parted slightly, but so sound came forth.

Taeredas kept his eyes trained upon the Orcess, but he could hear his own heart hammering furiously from within his chest. Hoping vainly for the best, for the sake of everyone present. His teeth ground slightly as the tension seemed to intensify.

"Well, what of him?" he demanded. Raliyu hesitated once more before answering.

"I could try healing him, but…his time does not seem long…." she announced with the faintest of whispers. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

A horrific wail erupted form one of the females, who fell to her knees in grief. With dismay, Gre'Dal suddenly realized that she did not face just one furious parent, but two. She stiffened; this whole thing was getting horribly out of hand.

Taeredas closed his eyes a moment and forced himself to inhale a steadying breath. The situation had just become far more complicated.

---------

"…and only for what? **Ha**! With a swing of my mighty axe, the fool…."

Shadowmoon chieftain Ner'zhul drummed his claws in clear boredom as Gretash, his third in command, rambled on about…whatever he was rambling about. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Gretash to get off track after needing only to answer a simple question. However, as tedious as his company was, he was a warrior with an invaluable prowess that well made up for his magical and social inadequacies. Shamans, such as he, were revered clearly a step higher than such Orcs as Gretash, but no Orc of any caste could deny the power of an experienced arm with a well-made axe.

Ner'zhul stole a glance at his apprentice. With a subtle smirk, he noticed Gul'dan had no such reservations as to pretend to be interested, and was now fidgeting and shifting restlessly in his place by his side. As mildly amusing as this was…

"Hold, Gretash…" the Chieftain commanded, raising his strong palm. "What of…the Draenei caravan…?"

Gretash paused momentarily, giving his brain a few moments to process the question. Gul'dan sighed sharply and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

"..Ah! Yes, the Draenei caravan…" Gretash muttered. Then, with another pause, he rolled his muscular shoulders in a simple shrug. "Not much to report there, I think. The other clans meet with them, they trade, and the strangers leave. It is as it has always been."

Ner'zhul nodded to himself in satisfaction, albeit with some disappointment. It would not be good for strife to rise between the cleft-hoofed people and the Orcish people, but for such strange creatures, one would think something of interest would spark at least at some point…

"Very well then… Then I must ask--"

"**Chieftain**!"

All three Orcs present in the tent looked to the entrance flap. There, Grimm'ar, a younger but no less useful Orc, stood blocked by the great axes of Ner'zhul's guards.

"Chieftain, it is most urgent!"

Gul'dan snarled. "You will wait for your time to--"

"It is of the strangers, Chieftain! They clash with our own kin as we speak—on _our_ lands!"

At this, Gul'dan and Ner'zhul exchanged equal glances of surprise.

With a sharp command, the guards permitted Grimm'ar to pass, and kneel on a single, bruised knee before the Shadowmoon Chief. His thick, heavy black hair fell unkempt from his leather tie and over his shoulders as he did so; all Orcs present could hear his Wolf mount panting heavily outside the tent walls.

"Rise, and speak quickly! What news is this?" Gul'dan demanded with severe impatience.

Ner'zhul didn't even bother to reprimand Gul'dan for speaking out of turn, so enthralled was he by this most timely interruption.

Grimm'ar did as he was told and rose, sweat plastering his dark skin. "Gre'Dal and her pup, along with Rantar's pup, face a cleft-hoofed hunting party that broke off from the caravan as we speak…!"

Ner'zhul hastily waved for Gretash to offer his waterskin to the younger Orc, who greedily accepted.

"Speak! In combat?" Ner'zhul demanded, his nails creating marks in the wooden arms of his chair.

"Yes! Though no blood was yet shed when I left to run for my wolf. I stumbled upon their encounter by accident, but they were blind to me."

Grimm'ar took another drink from the waterskin, careful not to leave his superiors waiting too long.

"Gre'Dal came upon her pups mingling with blue-skin ones--"

"Draenei pups!" Ner'zhul nearly barked in surprise, "I had not known them to bring their children, or that they even had such!"

Grimm'ar only nodded, taking Ner'zhul's reverie for a chance to drink again. "The cleft-hoofed people felt their pups were threatened, and their pack intruded on our territory to face Gre'Dal,"

"And what else??" Gul'dan demanded, coming close to shaking the rest from the other Orc.

"That is all I know and saw! I knew to tell the Chieftain, so I rode here like the Wind Spirit!

Ner'zhul nodded and abruptly stood, causing Gul'dan and Gretash to stand at attention. Ner'zhul hastily fastened his talbuk-hide cloak about his broad shoulders, and immediately made way for the exit with the other two close at his heels. At long last, he was granted the desired "spark," but this situation, he knew, could get out of hand rapidly, benefiting neither Orcs nor Draenei. The next actions taken could very well alter the course of relations between the two peoples.

"Fetch me my wolf!" he demanded loudly, "And water this depleted one!"

Gul'dan hastened by Ner'zhul's side and looked up expectantly. "Master, won't I be needing one as well?"

"No," he grunted simply.

"No…?!" Gul'dan repeated in disbelief, halting his walk and watching as his Chieftain continued on with Gretash.

"No," Ner'zhul repeated. "You are my second; I need you to remain here on clan grounds until I return."

Gul'dan nearly gaped in his own feeling of injustice. "But—Master,"

A sharp roar from his superior settled the matter.

"Yes…_master_…" Gul'dan said curtly, bowing faintly and glowering at Ner'zhul's back. His teeth ground together as he seethed.

Within mere minutes, Ner'zhul and Gretash's mounts were tacked, readied, and presented to their handlers. The Shadowmoon Chieftain climbed astride the back of the great, black beast with skill and experience, taking the reins in hand immediately. Gretash nodded to him once he had done the same. Ner'zhul grunted his satisfaction.

"Let's ride!"

---

For the longest of moments, neither side spoke, neither side moved. The only sounds were that of Tjaeden's mother, who continued to wail and lament her grief. The darkened gazes of the archers suddenly became murderous.

Gre'Dal snarled in sore attempts to bolster her confidence, yet took a small step backwards.

"Mother…?" Durkhan spoke up hesitantly. Until now, he had been silent, huddling close to Ragnar, nearly petrified. He had seen the strangers a few times, but never in anger. To both of their surprise, the strangers came off fiercely when angered.

Something in Durkhan's voice snapped the wailing Draenei from her lament. Her eyes, flowing freely with tears, narrowed in an anger nearly worthy of hatred, boring straight into the ones of the Orc youngling. Durkhan felt as if he could not move. Without breaking the visual contact, she took her fallen crossbow in hand and stood shakily to her hooves. She cocked the weapon with a horrific click.

"She took one of _mine_…my precious child…my _child_…" she said slowly, being sure to speak in Orcish so that Gre'Dal understood every word; pain laced her speech. "It's only right she knows how it feels…to lose one of _**hers**_…!"

Gre'Dal roared her fear and fury. Only quick action on Taeredas's part led the arrow to strike a tree above Durkhan instead of straight through his beating heart, sending flakes of bark to shower the younglings below.

Taeredas's gaze bored into her own pain-filled ones, pinning her to the earth with one mighty hand and gripping her wrist with the other until the crossbow fell uselessly unto the ground once more. Two of the archers leapt in front of their leader with aim still trained, preventing the Orcess from attacking while Taeredas's back was turned.

Gre'Dal flared her nostrils as adrenaline coursed through her body, the fear of nearly losing her own youngling still fresh in her mind and body. She quickly stepped in front of Ragnar and Durkhan, shifting from an offensive stance into a protective one.

"Can you even grasp how _delicate_ this situation is, woman?" Taeredas growled, pressing his hand against her sternum. The female slipped back into her grieving, a new bout of tears falling across her face into the damp earth. In truth, his words came out much more harshly then he intended, but the stakes were high, and no side could afford a mistake of any sort.

"Easily said for you, Taeredas, whose flesh and blood was spared!" she whispered. Her skin trembled visibly. "Would it have been your little one slain from the violent devices of the Orc's madness, you would crush her skull with your bare hands as we speak!"

Taeredas could not deny the truth of her words, but he nevertheless shook his head.

"No, my friend… If we do not tread this carefully, many more lives will be lost," he explained. She said nothing, but instead stared back at him with haunted eyes. Slowly, he released her once he was sure she would make no surprises, and helped pull her to her feet.

"**Hark**! Who trespasses?" one of the archers called out in clear Orcish. Taeredas immediately turned in the direction the archer was facing.

Within moments, two mounted forms materialized, eventually showing themselves to be two Orc wolf riders. A dark chuckle escaped one in particular as he expertly reigned in his beast to a halt. The wolf shook out his heavy black mane before inspecting the scent of the Draenei in clear curiosity.

Taeredas noticed the first Orc to be clearly dominant, judging by the body language of his riding partner. That aside, he was adorned with rich skins, furs, and countless accessories of clawed jewelry and bone piercings; even some of the tattoos Taeredas recognized to be an Orcish mark if high standing. However, unlike his counterpart, he bore no armor, signifying that he relied on a power other than the axe or the mace.

The Draenei noted carefully that this one must be a Shaman—the strange spiritual leaders of the Orcish people that seemed to have a way with the Wilds and the elements. He wasn't sure if such stories of their power were true, but he wasn't about to willingly test them.

"Trespass…? Hardly a word to be used on our _own territory_, don't you think?" the Orc said with a grave amusement. His voice was deep and full of authority.

Gre'Dal's eyes immediately flashed with recognition. "Chieftain Ner'zhul!" She quickly went through the motions of respect.

Each Draenei shared glances in turn, unable to tell whether the appearance of the Shadowmoon leader was very good timing, or very poor timing indeed.

Taeredas straightened his shoulders and kept his pole-arm tight in his grip and close in his hand. "Forgive the trespass, Shadowmoon Chief—we would not have dared to do so unless under the most urgent of circumstances,"

The Shadowmoon Chieftain said nothing, displaying neither hostility nor understanding as he urged his mount to step lightly towards the middle. He paid Gre'Dal no mind, focused entirely on Taeredas and his pack instead. He was surprised to see how large the male was—he had only seen the strangers at a distance on the rare occasions he watched them trade with the other clans. Everything from their skin to their hoofed feet to the tail that swayed agitatedly behind the other being fascinated him. By the way Taeredas carried himself and commanded his subordinates, Ner'zhul dared entertain the thought of this Draenei as a worthy opponent.

"It is no small thing to happen upon territory where you are not necessarily welcome," he finally spoke, "Tell me just how urgent the matter was…"

Gre'Dal shot her leader an anxious glance. "Chieftain--"

"He did not speak to you, Warrior, **quiet**!" Gretash commanded, sealing the demand with a threatening growl. It was an order she obeyed with great reluctance.

Taeredas let loose a heavy breath, preparing to explain the situation carefully. "Two of our younglings disobeyed their elders and wandered off. I assume they mingled for some time with your own kin's young. When they did not return well past when they were due, we became worried, and tracked them to the edge of your lands. We became alarmed by this, and trespassed your lands in order to retrieve our young, where we found her--" Taeredas motioned with his weapon towards Gre'Dal, "—ready to cleave my own youngling in two. Were it not that we intervened, she would have been dead along with the other."

One of Ner'zhul's thick brows rose nearly to his scalp. "…With the _other_, you say?"

Taeredas nodded once. "Yes, she had already slain one moments before we arrived." he explained, regret heavy in his voice.

A small choke of a sob echoed from the former mother once more at the mention of her son's murder, but afterward came only silence.

Ner'zhul and Gretash exchanged astonished glances. When they had first arrived, Ner'zhul and Gretash both were relieved to see no evidence of bloodshed, but what had actually occurred turned out to be far worse. This was not just loss of life, but an insult. The Chieftain felt the web of complicated affairs already begin to spin.

He whirled upon Gre'Dal from his place in the saddle, teeth bared past his mighty tusks. "Have you any idea what you have done..?!" he demanded. Gre'Dal held her ground.

"Chieftain, O glorious leader—they sent their young to begin the corruption!" she insisted.

Ner'zhul snorted at the ridiculous statement. He did not particularly like or trust the strangers, but having suspicions and acting out on them were two entirely different things. All Orc clans were at least a little suspicious of each other, but if all suspicions were acted out upon, he doubted if there would be any Orcs left.

Scanning and scrutinizing the faces around him, Ner'zhul inclined his head only the slightest to Taeredas. "Show me where this child is," he firmly requested, "I must see this with my own eyes."

The other Draenei stiffened at the prospect of another Orc nearing the body of the fallen child, living or otherwise. Raliyu remained still as she continued to kneel by the child's motionless form. Her eyes never wavered from the Shadowmoon Chieftain.

Ner'zhul urged his mount forward several paces towards where the child's whereabouts were indicated. Leaning slightly to the side in his saddle, Ner'zhul disregarded Raliyu and focused entirely on the small form laying crumpled upon the earth.

The small thing was pathetic, at best, far smaller than its adult counterparts, lying broken in a mess of his own blue blood. How Gre'Dal perceived such a meager creature as a threat, he couldn't understand.

Further inspection revealed a large slash from the side of its head to the bottom of its neck--the source of all the blood loss and likely from an Orcish claw. The tear itself was bound tightly by expertly placed bandages, but the Orc doubted that it would be enough. Too much life had flowed freely from the youngling's body already. As fascinated as he was, Ner'zhul grimaced—not from a weak stomach, for he was a warrior of many seasons, but from the potential calamity that would most likely develop as a result.

"You **fool**!" he roared, surprising Taeredas to some degree. He straightened in his leather saddle and whirled his mount to face his fellow clans-member. "How **dare** you make such a decision without _my_ **council**!"

"Honored Ch--" she began, but at no discernable command from he, the jaws of his wolf mount snapped closely by her face. Gre'Dal took a hasty and respectful step backwards as canine saliva spattered her skin.

"You have threatened the peace of our lands!" Gretash proclaimed, pointing a meaty, accusatory finger at her. Gre'Dal snarled in disbelief.

"I will **not** have the other clans come down on me for a strife that was caused by your own grave mistake!" Ner'zhul growled dangerously. No…he would not pay the price for this one's foolishness.

He turned his gaze back to Taeredas. "I will admit, I do not find your presence here in our lands settling, but nor do I wish for bloodshed when there is no real cause, for the sake of my _own_ people."

Taeredas nodded once in solemn agreement. "Our thoughts as well, Shadowmoon Chieftain."

Ner'zhul nearly sighed. Their sentiments were the same, that much was good, but that didn't mean everyone could simply walk away from this situation unburdened. There was a crime, and for a crime, there must be punishment. Gre'Dal's actions could not just so easily be forgotten by the strangers, and that would cause problems for the Orcs.

An idea came to his mind.

"I see in this we agree, Draenei. Perhaps, then… we could come to another agreement… One that will avoid strife between our two peoples…"

Taeredas sighed. "Can any price make up for the life of a child? No, I think not…"

"Blood for blood!" came a fierce reply. Both Orc and Draenei gazes turned towards the Draenei dam of the fallen youngling. She stood with a determination and strength that reminded Ner'zhul vaguely of his own females.

"What was that, Draenei?" Gretash rumbled.

"Blood for blood…" she repeated, stepping forward. Her crossbow was once more in hand, but not raised. "It will not bring my Tjaeden back, but I will rest easier knowing he was avenged—my _people_ will rest easier…"

Taeredas sent her a look of caution. "Y'enna… We are not Man'ari, we do not live our lives on such things as revenge…"

"_I_ _**need**__ this_…!" she snapped, causing Taeredas some surprise, "**I **need this to have any chance of _sleep_ at night!"

Taeredas did not argue the point, but looked to the Shadowmoon Chieftain instead.

"You stand before the mother of the young one who was slain. Know that to be a birth-giver among our people is one of the highest and rarest of honors, and your clansman has just stripped her of that. Then I as her leader must ask you this, O Shadowmoon Chief—would you deny her of her price…?"

Taeredas wasn't sure how or when the Orc would answer. According to Dursa, Orcs of all clans had a strict code of honor and glory—the slaying of children certainly not being part of it. However, interactions with the Huntress Dursa and now with Gre'Dal have shown him that not all Orcs see to this code as closely.

Ner'zhul tapped his jaw line with a single claw thoughtfully, breaking gazes with the Draenei female only to discuss something briefly with his subordinate. Gre'Dal glanced between the two almost nervously.

"Very well," Ner'zhul nodded, "Blood for blood, eye for an eye! If this will leave things as they were, so be it."

Durkhan gave a small gasp of fear.

Gre'Dal gave a great cry and gripped her Chieftain's foot in the stirrup with her strong hands. "My Chieftain, my _glorious_ leader! I beg of you, you cannot take from me one of my own—it was through my own actions I _protected_ them! I have always been your most loyal, your most _devoted_---"

Gre'Dal stumbled back from the wolf with a well-placed kick to the jaw. "Your own impetuous acts bring this upon yourself!" Ner'zhul snarled, turning the head of his wolf to face her. "You have nothing to blame but your own recklessness!"

"**No**!" she cried, throwing herself before Durkhan with a snarl, even as the Draenei raised her crossbow and placed her finger delicately on the trigger. "You cannot have my son!"

The Draenei snorted. "Then _you_ will do just fine."

Gre'Dal fell to the earth in a heavy heap with an arrow lodged through her skull. The look of fear and surprise remained plastered on her face. Y'enna gazed down at the body for but a moment, before looking beyond it to the horrified Orc younglings. Without a single emotion flickering across her features, she expertly slung her crossbow across her back and walked away to recover the body of her son.

Durkhan whimpered quietly and stared at the body of his fallen mother, trembling. Something warm and smooth touched his hands, and he lifted them from the dirt to find them covered in crimson blood. "Mother…?"

He couldn't believe his eyes—this could not be real! "..Mother…?"

"Gather the younglings," Ner'zhul commanded Gretash, "and cast her body into the water for the predators of the river. We will have no more talk of this day!"

Durkhan began to howl with rage.

Ner'zhul circled his wolf around to once again face the Draenei, but for the second time that day, his brows rose in surprise.

Like a whisper of the Wind Spirit, they were already gone.


	4. Prologue 4: Lessons & Family Matters

_Whooot_! The last part of the prologue, FINALLY COMPLETE! Ha, I know, a long-ass prologue, but worthy, I hope. Chapter one will be up either tomorrow or Tuesday. Then we can finally get into the real part of the story ;).

**Uber** thanks (that's right, I said uber) to _Avian Obscurities_, _Nara Bluestar_, _ALF_, and everyone else who reviewed! It really makes this worthwhile. :D

Also, a couple of you emailed me some questions, so here are my answers:

Walkyr308: Yes, a lot of the italicized words are Draenic. You can kind of infer what they mean, but I will put translations at the bottom of this chapter.

Rltimehb: Indeed, I do RP! I am usually on Thorium Brotherhood and Ravenholdt (Horde and Alliance). Anyone can email me for my character names. ( --- see bio for email).

Drake: No, although I did just come back from Germany, I am actually a citizen of the US and Ireland. Long story. ((_On a very random note_: Check out the Mr. T Warcraft commercial in German. **It is hilarious**!))

Anyways…onward :D

---

**Disclaimer:** I've pretty much given up on owning Warcraft, but I will never give up on enslaving—I mean… cough …_befriending_ that damn Night Elf… 0-0 ...

---

The hunting party swiftly made their way back towards the caravan, passing through the forested terrain much in the manner of a funeral procession. At the head of the group, Taeredas grimly noted that the likes of it was not far from the truth.

Kovähn nudged his master's hand with a large black nose, looking to the Draenei with fierce, sharp blue eyes. Taeredas mustered a small smile and placed his large hand appreciatively against the silver crest of the wolf's head. Even without words, in each other they understood. Satisfied with this, the great canine offered a contented swish of his tail and continued on by his Draenei's side.

The Huntresses kept close to Y'enna, watching her as carefully as the surrounding forest. She held the still child against her chest, whom was swaddled in a soft cloth now stained with cobalt. Taeredas alone concentrated on leaving their path untraceable in attempts to shut out the musical lyrics of Y'enna's _Ueadela_--the prayer for mercy. He nearly shuddered at the sound, knowing all too well that he was nearly the one praying his own youngling into the afterlife. So near to having to explain to Vaelandra...

Taeredas wiped his brow as if to wipe the thoughts from his mind—he did not want to have to think about how close he came to explaining to his mate why their child would not be returning, or that the last she would see of her would be on a funeral pyre. Kovähn whined faintly, pressing his side against the Draenei's leg. Taeredas knew that it wasn't fear the creature was experiencing, but anxiety conveyed through their mental link.

"Rest easy, my friend...all is well..." he murmured, but neither he nor his companion were convinced by his words.

-----

Aedion twisted around in her place on Eron's saddle to catch sight of the returning party. Although the considerable height of the tremendous animal allowed her a better view, they still appeared as small figures from her place near the head of the caravan. She frowned with childish impatience, unsure whether to eagerly await or dread the arrival of her parent.

Slowly, she felt the dramatic shift in atmosphere as undoubtedly word of the terrible misfortune spread, even if she could not hear all that the adults were saying. All down the way, voices hushed, and laughter ceased and slipped into an uncomfortable air of woe. The sun had long since gone, and slowly but surely the vast stretch of the caravan was lit by handheld torches and lanterns glowing with colorful enchantments. She watched restlessly as the hunting party mingled far down the line before eventually dispersing.

"_Xa'Dama_, can you see him?" she called down from Eron's towering backside. Shat'tau looked up at her from his place beside the Elekk's mighty head, the anxious sway of his tail the only exception to his well-disciplined patience.

A chuckle escaped him. "No, _Indala_, I cannot. You will see him first from way up there,"

Aedion nearly huffed in disappointment. She nibbled idly at a large orange fruit he had given her, but although she hungered she could not find it in herself to eat; the fruit instead remained forgotten in her lap.

It was quite some time before the rest of the party, that had not already assimilated somewhere along the line, began to approach the head of the caravan. By then the torchlight flickered hazily in Aedion's vision as her eyelids began to droop. The plump, partially eaten fruit rolled still forgotten from her fingers unto the ground, a mess the Elekk was more than happy to finish.

She snapped into alertness at the sound of low, whimsical voices and scrambled into an upright position; she hurriedly blinked sleep from her eyes. There, under the glow of torchlight and a single blue lantern, Taeredas and Shat'tau stood engaged in low, urgent voices. Kovähn's sharp ears were the first to pick up Aedion's stirring, and a wide grin spread across his maw at the sight of her. He loped a single pace before leaning with his large front paws against the Elekk's leathery side, causing the massive pachyderm to stamp angrily and rumble in protest. Aedion giggled and leaned over to plant a small kiss on Kovähn's black nose.

A stern reprimand returned Kovähn obediently to his master's side, and Aedion's smile faded as her eyes met her father's unreadable stare. A moment of silence passed where none of the three spoke.

Taeredas stepped forward and held open his hands. His expression was stern but otherwise still unreadable. Aedion nodded faintly, sliding from the Elekk's back until his large hands effortlessly caught her small body. She slipped into the small, flapless leather pack behind his shoulders that was reserved specifically for her on travels.

She curled contentedly within the soft confines of the talbuk hide and buried part of her face into her father's long hair, glad for the familiarity and scent of both.

"Sound the signal to begin moving, my friend," Taeredas commanded, "We must reach the rest of the caravan far before dawn."

Shat'tau inclined his head, removing an ornately decorated horn that once belonged as a tusk to an Elekk matriarch from his belongings. Suddenly, however, he gave pause; his eyes trained on the other Draenei.

"And…what of Y'enna…?" he asked. Worry creased his brow and eyes.

"The swiftest talbuk take your sister and her young to Furahlon as we speak," Taeredas explained.

"She will be safe?"

"My best Huntress goes with her," he assured his friend. Shat'tau inclined his head once more in gratitude as Taeredas continued on towards his waiting mount.

Aedion watched in silence as Shat'tau pulled himself astride his Elekk and raised the horn to his lips. A unanimous surge of relief from all minds present brushed against hers with the first call of the horn. She curled tightly in the pack as Taeredas mounted up, though she knew her parent would not allow her to fall. From her high viewpoint, she could see the long line of traders and beasts begin to move under the torchlight like an illuminated serpent.

Ir'daj gave a hearty, grateful snort at Taeredas's swift command to move forward, glad for the chance to finally leave. Aedion watched Kovähn lope effortlessly by the Elekk's side.

It was also some time before any words were spoken. For however long, Aedion waited patiently for her father to speak first, unwilling to upset him further by making another improper move. Her eyes watched the caravan stretch far back in the distance, to her fidgeting hands, to Kovahn again; she dared not fall back into sleep, for she sensed he had yet something to say. Each time his head turned, it was only to check upon his people, or to send Kovähn to herd or subdue an unruly animal or ward off a curious forest beast.

Finally, at long last: "You dishonored me today; I was very disappointed when I did not see you at Ir'daj in time, and _especially_ when you had many of us all wait."

Aedion flinched at the words, shame and humiliation burning at her cheeks and flushing them dark blue. She was glad that he could not see the shame painted on her features. That was worse than anger, not that she could remember a time when her father had truly been angry with her. The tone in his voice was something she could not identify, for she hadn't heard him use it before, but it definitely was not a good thing. She sank a little lower into the pack, pressing between his shoulders as if she could make herself small and forgotten.

She opened her mouth to utter a meek apology, but he spoke again:

"But even more than being disappointed, I was very afraid…"

At this, Aedion blinked, her confusion overriding most of her shame. Afraid? The mighty man that slays great beasts and now challenges Orcs?

"Afraid?" she blurted, "But you're never afraid!"

He chuckled warmly, a sound that was comforting, familiar, and banished the chill from her body.

"Oh, it may seem so, _Indala_, but it is not so… You see, the things I fear do not have shining blades, great teeth, or make the earth tremble with their walk," he explained; Aedion listened intently and tried to follow.

"My fear was very real, and it was of losing you, little one, _endai_?"

"_Endai_… I think…," she admitted.

He smiled slightly, though she could not see. "I believe you will…" he said quietly.

Aedion furrowed her brow slightly as she made sense of things. "Then…are you still angry with me…?"

"My anger was nothing against the fear that I would return home with this pack empty…" he admitted, a hint of sadness in his voice. Aedion's eyes widened with sudden understanding; twisting her small body around, she threw her arms about his neck, burying her face into his hair.

"Oh, _Apaii_!" she said fretfully.

"_Ee-ly _little one--"

"No! I am sorry!" she said fiercely, wrapped in guilt.

How could have she been so foolish? Surely she didn't know better—but her father did. While she did not pause to think that one should tread carefully—if at all—in Orcish territory, he had. It was not just for the sake of time she was not permitted to explore, but for reasons like Gre'Dal.

"Had I known…I would not have followed Tjaeden, I promise!"

Taeredas chuckled gently and set aside the reigns to lift Aedion from her pack. She looked up into his face with luminescent blue eyes crowned by guilt-knitted brows. He smiled and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, sending her a wave of reassurance.

"_Indala_, there is no sense in me being angry now. Life has taught you a greater lesson with an effect that my own words could only hope to achieve… This will often be so for much of your life, little one…"

He smiled as her slight brows rose in mild surprise.

"Would you agree that you have learned many valuable lessons today?" he asked, still gentle but with a slight sternness than requested honesty in her answer. She nodded solemnly, her mind flashing briefly back to Tjaeden.

"Yes, _Apaii_…"

"Then I will impart on you another one—trust me," he said, playfully tapping her nose, "I may not always make sense to you, and many things I say will seem foolish in your eyes, but you must trust that I know in what I speak of, just I was right about the Shadowmoon Orcs this eve… It is always in your best interest, _Indala_."

"Always!" she promised eagerly. He chuckled again at her enthusiasm, though it pleased him anyway.

"Remember that promise next time when you feel strongly a certain way some day. I will be your kindest teacher—Life will be your hardest one."

"_Apaii_…?"

"Mm?"

"I still don't understand all that happened…" she admitted.

"And you will continue to not until many years from now," he explained, "but one day, all that happened this eve will unfold its secrets before you."

Again, Aedion threw up her arms and tightly hugged his neck, raising from him a low rumble that reminded her of Frellan's purring feline. Taeredas closed his eyes and supported her with a single strong hand, allowing himself a silent, but reverent prayer of gratitude.

The Light had done more than just spare him of the greatest heartache today--

This child was undoubtedly blessed.

------------

It was nearly two suns later when the caravan had finally reached Furahlon.

Although there was always a sense of home and beauty in the heart of the wilds, Taeredas was just as content to have returned to the city.

Furahlon was a jewel in the valleys of Nagrand, with its silvery spires rising from the curves and rounded geometrics typical of Draenic architecture, separated by tier upon tier with shimmering white paths. All of the finest talent and craftsmanship was evident with its shining metals and elaborate designs. As a final testament of the city's beauty, the great temple of _Ae'tela _raised as the centerpiece above every tier, scarlet and luminescent much as a crown upon the jewel. It overlooked what seemed like the entire province of Nagrand from its place at the end of a mighty mountain cliff. The Eradis River forked almost too perfectly around the borders and fell like a regal curtain from the edge. It was the strong opinion of every inhabitant that Furahlon be instated as the capital, rather than Jaestean.

Though they had arrived well before midday, it was not until the sky bled its last remnants of the sun that Taeredas was at liberty to be satisfied in a job well done. Leading these seasonly expeditions included seeing it all the way through from the planning to the unloading. Not until all the goods were respectively delivered and the last beast was watered and turned to pasture was it finished. The tasks required to prepare and disassemble were all-day events in themselves.

Once the last Elekk was turned into the care of Kessel, Taeredas surveyed the grounds which had been mayhem only hours earlier. Now, at long last, everyone in the caravan had finally dispersed without even the hint of rubbish.

"Ready to be home, little one?" he asked.

No response.

Aedion had fallen fast asleep in her pack somewhere during his conversation with Daenon and Kessel.

He smiled, turning his head to get a partial view of her.

"_Indala_," he gently prodded, easily lifting her from his pack until she slumped in the crook of his arm. Kovähn nosed her face as she blearily matched gazes with her father.

"Want to see your mother now?" he asked, knowing well the answer. The small child nodded eagerly, but her energy was short lived as her eyelids once more began to droop. Her head lolled softly against his chest, breathing quietly in the blanket of slumber.

Taeredas chuckled his amusement and lightly touched her face.

"Ah, how I wish I could sleep so easily… Enjoy it while you can, little one," he said.

With that, Taeredas continued down the ivory streets that perfectly reflected the hues of the twilight. He made his pace swift, passing through the thinning crowds with Kovähn close at his hooves. Only his destination remained in his minds eye, and he secretly hoped that he would not have to endure anymore pleasantries or greetings for the evening so that his return would no longer be delayed. It was unlikely, however—most of the vendors and street wares were closing down for the evening. He took it as a good sign when the normally packed lift joining the several levels of the city tiers was nearly empty.

He had to suppress a grin as he stepped off from the lift platform—she had already sensed him near.

The third tier was separated from the great temple only by the fourth, and so was used primarily as residence. The difference between this and the lower levels was immediate: one being the lack of shops and large animals and the other being the considerably calmer atmosphere. Smells of hot food permeated the gentle air. Low lanterns and various sculptures spouting translucent waters dotted the wide streets. Two small children eyed Aedion curiously, but Kovähn's stern rumble kept them at a distance.

Finally, Taeredas was rewarded with the sight of his own home. Ascending the few marbline steps, he quickly passed through the crystalline doorway and entered his home.

"_Aed'le xa jaes!_" came a very familiar praise indeed. Taeredas lifted his gaze to the top of the stairwell and nearly beamed.

"_Vaelandra_…!"

The female's exquisite features brightened with joy at the sight of her mate, dark lips curled into a petite, excited smile. Excitement seemed to radiate from her deep violet skin as she hurriedly clutched her white robes in her delicate hands and hurried downstairs, hooves clicking rapidly off the smooth metals.

With the arm unhindered by his youngling, Taeredas caught her in nearly mid-leap from the air, pleased with her enthusiastic greetings. But from Vaelandra, he never had to expect less. She laughed gently as she embraced him tightly about his neck, pulling away only after several joyful moments.

The Priestess continued to smile as she once more stood upon the ground, tracing her fingertips along the sides of his face. Taeredas leaned in and caught her soft lips with his, exhaling softly at their warmth and remembering just how much he missed them. Vaelandra grazed her teeth against them playfully as he pulled away, making him instantly regret withdrawing at all. His mate, however, had other things on her mind as she deftly scooped her tiny daughter from his arm.

Aedion blinked blearily and stared straight at her mother with hazy eyes, making small sounds of protest of having been roused. Vaelandra laughed, a sound that echoed sweetly in the foyer, and tucked the child to her chest.

"Oh, _Indala_! How tired you are!" she chuckled, "Did _Apaii_ make you march all that way?"

Taeredas shook his head in mock offense. "You know I would never do such a thing," he said.

Vaelandra smiled and fussed with the youngling's obsidian black hair. "It's only been seven suns, and by the Light, I swear she's grown!"

"Aye, they do grow quickly…" he agreed, wrapping his arm around her slender middle. Both Draenei made their way back up the stairwell, Kovähn and his wide toothy grin following after them.

"Let's hope not _too _quickly," she admitted, "I'm rather enjoying this age…and I still can't get over how much she has your likeness,"

Her mate shook his head in non-concurrence, lightly touching the child's forehead. "My coloring, perhaps, but your likeness without question."

Considering this, Vaelandra tilted her head slightly as she softly gazed at the child in her arms. Her short hair, nearly as white as her robes, fell in tresses from behind her ear as she did so. Her fingers traced feather light, invisible patters across Aedion's skin. It was many moments such as these that reminded Taeredas of how his mate could not have been more wisely chosen.

"Hm…" she hummed, "I suppose you're right,"

"Of course I am! If she had _my_ face, it would be frightening…!" he jested, pulling her closer to his side. Vaelandra laughed and lifted her chin in doing so, granting him a tantalizing view of her soft neck. Taeredas sighed inwardly at his own longing.

"Don't say such things!" she smiled, "She's beautiful… The young men will be swarming like bees to a flower when she comes of age,"

Taeredas looked to the side momentarily and groaned. "Now _you_ don't say such things…!" he said, "I'll beat them all away as they come!"

"Pah! Same words of my father, and yet, here you are!"

Taeredas chuckled, leading her left as they reached the top of the stairway. "Yes, but I _earned_ my way to have you as my own," he insisted.

Vaelandra rolled a purr that made him regret she was holding their child at the moment. "Yes, and without question, you were magnificent…!"

"That is _true_…" he grinned, visibly straightening with pride. Vaelandra chuckled in her throat and shot him a mock accusatory glance.

"I couldn't say much for _modesty_, however…" she teased. He simply raised an eyebrow and cast an amused glance.

"Are you _challenging_ my virtue of modesty?"

"If you _had_ such a virtue, then yes!"

He laughed heartily, and feeling the day's weariness slip away now that he was home, unwrapped his arm from Vaelandra and began to unburden himself of his many packs and minor supplies. Before he could get far, however, a younger Priestess quickly hurried to his side from down the hall, raising her hand in a gesture for him to pause.

"_Xa'Dama_! Don't trouble yourself—you must be weary!" she mock scolded, quickly taking to the task of unclasping his packs and stowing them on nearby hooks.

"Jaedis!" Taeredas greeted, "I am not so weary yet,"

Nevertheless, he offered Vaelandra's apprentice his faithful pole-arm, and she made no hesitance in taking it in hand. He raised another brow as she spun in within her hands with the ease of a practiced fighter before she mounted it upon its respective place on the wall. Vaelandra almost smirked at her mate's expression.

"She's been learning much from me; even in the seven suns you were gone," she said, to which Taeredas nodded.

"I can see that…!"

Jaedis pretended not to hear them, secretly pleased with the indirect praise but trained well to accept all such things with humility and grace. With a slight inclination of her head, she reached towards Vaelandra with outstretched arms and held them there.

"May I take her for you, _Xa'Dala_?" she asked. The reverence she had for Vaelandra was clear with every syllable.

Vaelandra, however, took one look at her child before shaking her head, pressing Aedion closer to her chest. "By the Light, I've only just seen her! Surely a mother is allowed some time?"

Jaedis was about to nod her acceptance before Taeredas laid a hand on Vaelandra's arm. "Actually, my love, there is something of certain importance I must discuss with you…"

Vaelandra was about to wholly object until she noted the seriousness in lifemate's eyes. Taeredas loved their daughter as much as she, and any indication that something else took precedence was not to be ignored. Trusting his judgment against her insistent wants, she carefully unwrapped her small daughter from her arms and placed a loving kiss upon her forehead. Aedion responded with a wide yawn.

"Set her to bed with you tonight after a proper bath, Jaedis, but if the littlest thing goes wrong--"

"My Lady! Have faith, kindly, that your little one will be revered as certainly as if she were my own…" Jaedis firmly assured her.

Vaelandra eyed the younger woman carefully, before offering her a nod with far more certainty. She had taken much time in choosing just the right apprentice, and even more the past two seasons shaping her into a proper Priestess under her watchful guidance—if she could not be trusted with Aedion, than there was little, she decided, that Jaedis _could_ be trusted with.

Aedion hardly noted the transference between her mother and another female, satisfied instead to curl against the new promise of security and warmth. Jaedis held the child properly and bowed slightly at the waist to both parents before swiftly making her way towards her chambers. Vaelandra watched her leave until the young female's hoofsteps and Kovahn's claws no longer echoed down the hallway.

Taeredas smiled some and gently guided her down the opposite direction by her upper arm.

"Come now, Vael… You will see her in the morning as surely as the sun will rise." He assured his mate, sliding his right arm once again about her middle. Vaelandra's lips once again pulled into a smile as she pressed against his muscular side, finding it much easier now that his many packs and supplies were no longer burdening him.

"I know…" she sighed softly, "but you were able to spend an entire seven days with her to yourself, while I missed you _both_!"

"Well then…" he said, "Tomorrow while I am debriefing with the Exarch, you may spend all the time in the world with her! But until then…"

Vaelandra nearly yelped in surprise as he suddenly swept her off her hooves, carrying her with ease down the dimly lit hallway.

"…I have you to _myself_ for tonight!"

Her startled expression gently melded into one of pleasant surprise, and she happily slid her arms around his neck. Taeredas felt himself shiver as she delicately nibbled on his ear.

"Vaelandra…" he insisted, doing his best to maintain a steady voice, "I believe you have…_partially_ misread my intentions…"

She snickered softly and delicately traced her fingertips over the tendrils by his face. "Mm? You think I don't know you by now…?"

Taeredas found himself having to make an effort to concentrate on his original intentions before they were left forgotten. No easy task to accomplish when he could feel the heat from her comparatively small body already rise in his arms.

A task that became even more daunting once in the presence of their bedchambers.

"I was not implying that…" he said slowly, though feeling that he was surely fighting a losing battle.

Taeredas sighed audibly as he sat at the edge of the bed. Rather than slipping from his arms to be at his side, Vaelandra playfully smirked and placed her hands upon his shoulders in attempts to lay him back. It was only through a near epic struggle of willpower that he did not oblige.

"…There was trouble with the Orcs at the caravan!" he blurted in his last ditch effort to remain focused.

The desired affect was achieved on Vaelandra as she looked back at him with widened eyes. After a moment, she slid from his lap to his side, her attractive, playful features replaced by a look of concern. She draped her graceful arms over his shoulder and gazed at him, slightly baffled.

"The Orcs…?" she said quizzically, "I don't recall them being a problem before…I thought the trades with them were going rather smoothly,"

Taeredas nodded, pleased that he now had her undivided attention on the matter, but also displeased that it had to be during such unfortunate timing. Nevertheless, it was all important that she hear this now, rather than springing it upon her later, or even worse, not at all.

"They…_are_, in my opinion. Remember when I told you about that one Orcess, Dursa?" he began; she nodded, "Her clan has been especially helpful. But one of their neighbors, as you know…_isn't_."

Vaelandra waited patiently, knowing well he had much more to say. Years of experience with him gave her the sense that he was debating over the right way to go about it; the same experience also told her it was better to let him do so patiently rather that usher the tale along.

"You're implying about the Shadowsong tribe, yes?" she frowned slightly, "I thought they more or less left us alone, even if they disapproved."

"_Shadowmoon_, actually… Yes, they are not friends of ours, but nor are they blatant enemies… What occurred, however…involves them…"

Taeredas shared a glance with Vaelandra before once more turning his eyes away, allowing himself to fall back into the sheets in preparation for a long explanation. Throughout the entire ordeal, Vaelandra listened with rapt attention from her place curled against his side, and let him continue even when certain points made her want to gasp or object angrily. Taeredas could feel her many emotions brush against his mind: anger, fear, anxiety, relief, sadness, among others. Yet in spite of it all, she honored her wordless promise to hear his words, and listen she did. When he had finally finished, the two lay in silence, wordlessly contemplating over the events that had occurred.

One of her hands lifted to drape across his chest, but otherwise she was still. Taeredas allowed her the similar courteousy of leaving her to her thoughts, feeling himself already a little more unburdened.

Finally she spoke, her voice soft with deep thoughts. "That very much explains why Y'enna and Raliyu came home so early," she said.

"Aye, from the caravan?"

"Yes, and straight to the temple they went! All the way into O'ros's sanctum, with her injured youngling…I've never seen such a look upon her face…"

Taeredas turned his face to look at her. "Does the child live…?" he asked quietly. To his immense disappointment, Vaelandra just shook her head sadly.

"I do not know…" she sighed, "None of the Lightwalkers, be us Priest or Vindicator, were allowed near the boy. O'ros has spoken only to Y'enna since their return days ago…! It...is strange to us, but we dare not question the reasoning of the N'aaru,"

"A wise decision," her mate nodded, "Their minds and reasoning are far beyond ours while we still walk as the Living." She hummed her concurrence, and he smiled at the sound, inhaling the scent of the temple's burning incense that always remained in her ivory hair.

"You know… My heart pains for Y'enna's loss—for our community's loss—but…I cannot help but feel grateful that it was not Aedion that damned Orcess struck first," he confessed, sighing inwardly.

"Taeredas!" she remarked with some surprise. A hint of disapproval flashed in her shining eyes.

"Can you not look at me and say that you do not feel the same way?" he asked. "It was by the grace of the Light that she still lives! I couldn't imagine…having to return home baring news of--"

"—Hush!" Vaelandra sternly interrupted, propping herself upon her elbows and placing her delicate fingers over his lips to silence him. "Do not speak of what horrible fortune nearly befell us when we could use the same breath to praise the Light for its mercy! Constant "would ifs" will not lead us anywhere, my love…"

She sighed softly as her fingertips fell away from his face.

"_But_, against my better conscience, I will admit that I feel much the same way… However, we mustn't speak of that to anyone--"

Taeredas snorted indignantly. "As if I would announce that, Vaelandra! I am not as cold as that."

"I should hope not, my love," she agreed, "Although I am still unsure what to be more confounded by—Aedion's disobedience or those…_outrageous_ accusations from that Shadowmoon Orcess…!" Her brow cinched slightly as she gazed beyond him in thought.

Her mate gestured with his other hand almost dismissively. "A child is not Light incarnate, despite what we would want to believe. She is, as all children are, prone to times of waywardness. However, I do not think her actions were out of _defiance_, but instead, curiosity…"

"Misplaced curiosity, at that," Vaelandra added. "Do you think all of the Orcs share that misguided one's suspicions?" She looked up into his eyes, trusting in him to know.

"No…" he finally said; the end of his tail flickered thoughtfully as he carefully chose his answer, "While certainly some are unsure of us, the Shadowmoon clan's suspicions go far beyond that of their neighbors… If they _all_ shared the same opinion, I'm afraid the lack of trading would be the least of our troubles…"

"Light forbid…" Vaelandra prayed, making a quick, symbolic gesture with her hand. Something else, however, seemed to tug at her mind, and after a few further moments of reflection, she spoke again.

"You say Y'enna slew her?"

Taeredas nodded. "Yes, that she did…" he confirmed gravely, but his questioning gaze gave away his curiosities.

"Hm…I don't know if I agree with the 'deal' made between her and that Chieftain… Vaelandra admitted, "It seems…too simple to just solve all of the complicated emotions involved…"

Taeredas nodded his agreement, for in this way, he felt the same. Vaelandra, bless her, had just mirrored the majority of his thoughts that had been resting for days like weights upon his mind.

"An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind…" he murmured.

Vaelandra sighed gently and propped her chin against the crook of his shoulder.

"Were there any more incidences on your return home?" she asked, to which Taeredas shook his head.

"No… Not with the Orcs…Although I do fear that our little one will not be walking down my path after all…" he sighed heavily. At this, Vaelandra cocked a brow and cast him a questioning gaze.

"Oh? And what leads you to assume this?"

"Vaelandra, if you could have seen—she's, well….beyond _all_ hope when it comes to a crossbow,"

She chuckled lightly and tilted her head, clearly not sharing in his disappointment.

"It is true!" he insisted, "She has the patience of a gnat, and lacks even the most basic tracking instincts!" He sighed again and briefly placed his free hand over his eyes.

His mate, however, merely giggled at his clearly flustered words and prodded him teasingly, "She is still quite young, _Ahtae_…give her time."

"True, but she is old enough now to show the barest hints of where her talents lie, and I see _none_ thus far in mine," he explained, but Vaelandra only smiled.

"So you won't have a daughter wrestling bears, and gutting beasts, and running rampant thorough the wilds—no loss!" she reasoned, amused at his incredulous reaction.

"You make us sound like barbarians, Vaelandra…" he chuckled.

"Maybe it** is** barbaric!" she insisted. Taeredas's expression suddenly changed into one of mild uncertainty.

"I thought you approved of such…?" he said slowly.

"Oh! Don't get me wrong—it's _quite_ becoming for _you_…" she insisted eagerly, rolling a purr at the end of her words that made temptation itself seem modest. She had the likeness of a feline closing in for kill, he thought, with her delicately slanted luminescent eyes peering at him from her place at his side, a small smile on her somewhat puckered lips that danced on the border of a smirk.

Taeredas laughed good-naturedly at the blunt honesty in her remark, an action that felt as good on the spirits as it did the mind. With a pleased growl, he pulled her up and over him until she lay across his body, resting his hands against the supple curves of her hips. Equally pleased with the new arrangement, Vaelandra placed a feather-light kiss against his skin, restraining a snicker as she wrapped her short tail around one of his wrists.

Taeredas felt grateful indeed for her ability to raise his spirits in seemingly any situation. Only moments later, however, his contented smile somewhat lessened, and a brow laden with worry furrowed over his eyes.

"My love," she crooned, running a gentle thumb over his lips, "What burdens you now?"

"Alas, Vaelandra…" he murmured, "The lives were taken and the deal was made…yet I think the pact made with the Shadowmoon Chieftain was a shaky one…" He exhaled heavily and took to brushing back a lock of her ivory white hair. "It was made in desperate attempts to prevent blood strife, but instead of ending all things…I fear this is only the beginning…"

Vaelandra regarded him a few silent moments before responding. "No…" she solemnly agreed, "It is not the end. Something deep within my judgment tells me that it is so. But for now we can only have faith,"

Ah, faith. The word was nearly as sweet as taste of her following kiss, and Taeredas knew that to the end, it would see them through. It always had.

"That will be the most invaluable thing we can teach Aedion, for without our faith, we are nothing." she said, a sudden smirk crossing her features, "Even if we _can't_ shoot a silly crossbow."

"Silly?" he echoed, raising a brow in mock offense. She merely grinned back at him, pulling her hair back behind her horns. "Such 'silly crossbows' provide you your food and furs, spoiled one!" he teased, "What say you to that, _mm_?"

Vaelandra merely seemed very pleased with herself and unaffected by his taunt, much to Taeredas's amusement. She pushed herself from his torso so that she sat upright over his waist.

"I would have to say that Vindicators get along rather well without crossbows," she said simply. She finished tying her hair and lowered her arms to press her palms against his broad chest. A small smirk accented her countenance.

Now Taeredas seemed truly surprised. His eyes looked over her questioningly before voicing his curiosity out loud. "Vindicator…? You said nothing of that…I assumed you meant for her to follow your path of Priesthood…"

"Pah! You mustn't assume so much, my love. That child is blessed with the Light, but the livelihood of the Priest would be only tedious for her!"

"Aye, she lacks a certain…virtue of patience," Taeredas pointed out.

"True," Vaelandra agreed, "Which is only _one_ reason why priesthood wouldn't suit her, but the Vindicators would instill in her good discipline…and faith." She had to keep from smiling at the last words, knowing well as most wives do when she had succeeded in her persuasion.

Taeredas contemplated this, giving no real hint of whether he truly approved or disapproved of her prospect.

"I know you wished greatly for her to follow in your path, but just think about it, will you? After all, the Light has proven itself to work in mysterious ways…"

Unable to deny this fact—or more importantly, the subtle and ever persuasive pleading in her voice—Taeredas simply nodded his head once in acceptance.

"Very well…I will think on it."

Clearly satisfied, Vaelandra leaned downwards to place an appreciative kiss on his lips. "I knew you would at least think about it…"she smiled, sitting upright once more and bringing her feathery linen robe up about her shoulders.

"It will be quite some years before we need to worry about such things, though…"

Taeredas scarcely heard a word she said in her last sentence, too occupied by other intents. What had needed to be said was said and done, and all causes for concern with it. As he expected, Vaelandra was beside him in every way. However, now that he was unburdened with such matters off his mind, Taeredas didn't see harm in being occupied with others…

Noticing his blatant stare, Vaelandra cocked an elegant brow and paused mid-motion. "…What is it?" she asked him, though she had a rather good idea just what it was.

"…_Must_ you put that back on?"

Vaelandra chuckled lowly, matching his gaze as she outstretched her arms--and let the garment fall listlessly to the floor.

-----

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**And here is the Vocab, as promised:**

_Indala_ – the feminine version of an affectionate term meaning "beloved little one," as from an adult to a small female child, a parent to a daughter, or a master to his/her female apprentice.

_Endama_ – the masculine counterpart of _Indala_ as from an adult to a small male child, also sometimes meaning "my son."

_Apaii_ – the casual/informal word for "father."

_Yu'tari_ – direct form of "teacher" or "master."

_Ueadela_ – a Draenic prayer for mercy and/or help.

_Ahtae_—"dear one" or "loved one", usually referred to between blood family.

_Y'uuae_ – a Draenic prayer traditionally sang or spoken as a guide for a deceased one into the afterlife.

_Ee_-_ly_ – no translation, a word meant to reassure, steady, calm, or soothe.

_Endai_ – translated as "understand", used as a question of "Do you understand?" or an affirmative of "I understand."

_Exarch_ – title of the individual that holds authority over a city or designated province, much like a mayor.

_Reluthe_ – the Old Draenic word for "Vindicator" or "Paladin."

_Azgala_ – meaning "spirit" or "Ghost."

_Xa'Dama_ – a both casual and formal masculine honorific of respect given to a male elder or one of superior standing than that of the speaker.

_Xa'Dala_ – the feminine version of _Xa'Dama_, respectfully given to a female elder or one of superior standing than the speaker.


	5. Live for the Hunt

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Oh my!! Yes, I am back. I am so sorry my dear ones that it took me so long. I had many family problems, busy with college, and my horse passed away Yes, all very sad. V.V But I am back, and I do hope to be adding the next chapter after this very, very quickly so that this makes much more sense.

Alright…first off, MASSIVE Kudos to everyone who reviewed and game me detailed feedback such as Avian Obscurities, Nara Bluestar, Maximus, and Stalking Severus Snape. Really guys, the reviews make ALL the difference for me.

However, a very _very_ special thank you is reserved for ALF—who has spoken to me on Thorium Brotherhood about the story on several occasions, and Bishop, who has encouraged me to work through my writers block via email. You all are amazing and these next two big ass chapter are for you!! squeezy hug

Also, we are now, thank god, finished with the prologue. Let the real story begin!

Now….Onward!

_**Disclaimer**: Seriously, I'm desperate here for that Night Elf…_

**--**

Patience.

An invaluable virtue for one of any path, but especially true for the hunt. A hunt, he realized, that mostly consisted of him crouched among the cover of heavy foliage for a time no one should have to endure. Doing well to ignore the slight complaints aching in his powerful muscles, the young male idly scratched at his neck, frowning subconsciously as his fingers fell upon a faintly puckered, neck-length scar. He turned his eyes back to the prey.

Still, even hours later, the damned stag mulled and grazed, testing even Tjaeden's sharp concentration that was born of all hunters. His eyes switched over to places beyond the talbuk stag where he knew others of his party were laying in wait, and motioned to them with sharp, silent hand signals. A glint of reflected light from a small mirror signaled their readiness. Tjaeden nodded, exhaling quietly through his nose—the slightest, most seemingly miniscule wrong move could send his entire hunting party on another hungry night—and he'd had enough of those. He tossed the tail of his thick brown hair over his shoulder in a silent, but restless gesture.

The talbuk stag they had marked was magnificent by all standards; massive and proud, the leader of this herd was clearly distinguished by his gleaming silver hide and impressive rack of ivory antlers—not only a sign of a healthy and filling catch, but a winning one as well. A king of the stags. Surely if this beast was brought back to camp, their _Yu'tari_ would undoubtedly be impressed. About time, too.

The Draenei watched as the great buck lifted his blackened nose from the grass into the air, and release a bleating call.

His eyes narrowed, coiling in preparation. He resisted the temptation to swish his muscular tail impatiently.

It was only an hour to twilight, and that stag knew that it would be very unwise to have his herd meandering at a time where their eyes could not focus—unfortunately, his hunters knew this too. Timing here was everything. Tjaeden nearly rolled his eyes in relief when he saw the herd's formation begin to coalesce from their loose grazing positions into a migrating pattern. Finally--It was now or never.

Tjaeden immediately readied himself, sending a mental signal towards the others and…

…widened his eyes in horror as an over-eager bark resonated from the direction of his comrades.

_Oh no_…_**Läeda**__…!_

Resisting the urge to face-palm his frustration, Tjaeden leapt to his hooves and swung his heavy crossbow into action with a single, practiced motion. However, for the second time in less than a minute, Tjaeden nearly balked as he stared into the eyes of his other five comrades, their gazes first glinting with surprise, then with something akin to regret. They had stood up too soon: now instead of intercepting the herd Tjaeden was to startle into flight towards _them_, they had accidentally sent the entire herd _towards_ him.

An accident that would likely cost them the hunt _and_ the trial.

Tjaeden's mind raced furiously as the many numbers of startled animals began to turn on their cloven heels and charge headlong in his direction, shredding up clods of dirt and bleating fearfully. Disaster. But there was only one option.

"_**Pursue**_!!" he bellowed, looking back into the aim of his equipped weapon. Three sharp shots sent two does sprawling to the earth, arrows lodged firmly into their knees. They would not suffer long, however—the serrated blades of several pole-arms ended their misery quickly as the remainder of the hunting party passed over the felled beasts in their pursuit.

He would not lose this hunt. He would not disappoint their _Yu'tari_, or make him regret his decision of letting Tjaeden lead this apprentices' trial. If executed successfully, this would mark the completion of the fifth of their seven trials—setting them only two more trials away from becoming true Hunters of Furahlon. By his blood and the Light, he would slay that damn animal. King or otherwise.

Tjaeden's eyes flashed in momentary apprehension as the last of the herd bounded past him in thinning numbers. He had escaped the risk of being trampled under hoof, but where was the stag? With such distinguishing appearance, surely he would have seen him fly past…

The young male narrowed his eyes and surveyed the surroundings hastily, his tail swinging side to side in clear agitation. The last few does flew by the greatly dismayed Draenei, leaving him alone in the grassy clearing in silence.

_Dammit_…after all that waiting, all those _days_ of _tracking_ him here…

Tjaeden grinded his teeth to withhold a particularly unbecoming curse, his normally jovial nature shadowed by the cloak of failure. With a snort of utter disgust, he turned on his hooves and set out in the direction his pack had pursued the herd, stepping heavily over the occasional body of a fallen talbuk.

A small, if not frail bleat emerged from the stony silence, bringing the hunter to the crumpled heap of an unlucky doe. The bleat was not from the doe, however, but rather from her ungainly calf that refused to abandon her broken side. The little thing was pathetic in all senses of the word, trembling noticeably on the stalks of its awkward limbs and gazing at the Draenei with milky eyes that shone with fear.

The hunter frowned at the sight, noting with an expert eye that the majority of her injuries were not from the two arrowheads piercing her forelegs, but instead from the damage inflicted by the carelessly trodding hooves of her herd. With great dismay, he realized the arrowheads to be of his own design. How the calf had survived the frenzied stampede was beyond him, but without a mother his fate was sealed, and with two simple shots he had doomed both.

Tjaeden reached for his favored hunting blade and brought it to the doe's throat, slicing cleanly and thus ending the creature's misery and relieving her of a painful, labored passing. As the blood flowed freely from her throat and pooled into the damp earth, it painfully reminded him of the life and work wasted on this trial. The way of life was often cruel, but never _wasteful_—the prospect nearly made him ill.

Within mere minutes, the rest of the small hunting party had returned—five others all of his age, all with expressions of loss and frustration under the smears of dirt and blood. They would not hunger, for they had many does to skin and prepare, but the stag was the heart of their trial. And it was the stag that they had lost. Tjaeden forced himself to draw to his full height with a pride he no longer felt he had, and meet their grim gazes. What he saw, however, surprised him.

One by one, in a rapid succession, his companions each looked upon him with widened eyes and expressions of…_alarm_…? Tjaeden sent them a puzzled look, but it went unnoticed, leading him to realize that they were not, in fact, looking _at_ him but…

He whirled around to face what his backside had been only moments before, just as Ra'ziel's warning called out across the clearing.

The warning nearly came too late.

Saved only by the nature of his instincts and finely tuned reflexes, Tjaeden tightly gripped the massive horns that nearly ran him through.

The impact of the charging animal had nearly sent him reeling backwards, most certainly to his following death. The shining stag tossed his head, causing a snarl of pain from the Draenei's throat as a sharpened edge in the antlers sliced his shoulder. Tjaeden was sizable even by the standards of his own people, but this enraged animal clearly out weighed him in bulk. Considering also that he had foolishly released his weapon to receive the impact, he was left with the unarmed disadvantage.

How had it so swiftly come upon him? How could he not have heard such a charge even at his back? Since when did herbivores attack by surprise? Tjaeden cursed his momentary lapse of patience and self-control—it had nearly cost him his life.

His hooves ground deep marks into the damp earth as he fought to maintain his ground, muscles straining, but foot by foot, the powerful beast pressed him backwards. None of the animal's weaker points could be reached while all of his energy was needed to keep the horns at bay. Tjaeden growled as he simultaneously fought to maintain his hold on the antlers that threatened to end him here—it was a massive effort in itself to keep the stag from shaking them free of his grip. Should the buck succeed in rearing and decide to strike out with a sharp hoof, Tjaeden knew that that would likely be the humiliating end of him. His eyes darted back and forth for a chance to materialize as anything. Where was his team?

Then, salvation, in the form of a copper blur.

With a rightful roar of fury, Tjaeden's canine shadow collided into the stag's side, sending the animal sprawling with her equally substantial bulk. The Draenei hissed sharply as the impact caused the horns to slice across his palms with the buck's violent, sideways motion.

With that final turn of events, the struggle was over. Taken as unexpectedly as the Draenei he opposed, the stag was little to no match for the powerful wolf, who had his throat expertly locked in her bone-snapping jaws. With a few final kicks and a desperate flail, the magnificent creature passed on from the living world with a final, shuddering breath. For a moment, all was silent.

Tjaeden caught his breath and turned to check on his team. They were only several yards away at this point, lowering the crossbows they now realized were no longer needed. The hunt was done. Now, however, after a unanimous exhale of relief, all five approached with expressions varying from the astonished, to the victorious, and—in Azala's case—anger.

Tjaeden wiped the sweat and dirt from his brow and winced—he had forgotten about the shoulder wound. Still, deciding that it wasn't yet worth inspecting, the young male slowly approached his four-legged companion, coming to a stop at her side. Her eyes did not turn to him, instead gazing off at some unknown specter. She breathed heavily, sending hot puffs of air past her black nares as she continued to hold her victory within her jaws.

Tjaeden slapped an appreciative hand on her barrel-like copper side, coming up only to her shoulder in height--a thing that always amused him. Considering that she was a product of careful Orcish wolf breeding, this didn't surprise him; as far as he knew, these animals were used as their mounts, and would need to be rather large in order to comfortably accommodate their Orcish handlers. Until this past year, however, he hadn't any idea just _how_ large—she had been so very small once upon a time! But true to her breeding, the she-wolf had grown quickly along with her Draenei companion, eventually sporting an impressive coat that further exaggerated her bulk.

She gave her companion the briefest of mental regards, still allowing her rage to subside. He smiled and firmly patted her muscled shoulder.

"I approve, my girl, no more need to hold him," he said, sending her mental assurances.

A low snort escaped her nose. _He nearly killed you, _she insisted crossly, _He deserved so much more…_

"_Ee-ly_, my friend, it was my own fault--"

_That changes nothing!_

"He charged me because I threatened his herd and he found opportunity at my turned back…did you not also defend me and find opportunity as well in his misplaced attention?" he reasoned, to which she gave a defiant toss of her head.

_I would have taken him head on if need be!_ She said adamantly.

Tjaeden smiled, offering her a nod of concurrence. "Indeed, and you would have won!"

Satisfied with this, she parted her jaws and slowly shook her head, letting the stag's body slip from her large upward protruding tusks. That impressive display, however, somewhat detracted as her anger vanished and was immediately replaced by her jubilant personality. Trotting lightly on her paws around the kill site much in the manner of a pup, Läeda's grin was nearly as wide as the arc of her happily swishing tail that trailed her like a copper banner.

Tjaeden chuckled to himself, reveling in his own greatly improved mood with the sudden turn of victory. The events had been fortunate, if not lucky, but it was success nonetheless. Nearby, Ra'ziel gave a great victorious whoop and joined Tjaeden in tying the stag's feet with rope, clearly just as thrilled. He and Tjaeden flashed pleased grins as they worked.

"Praise the Light!" his friend beamed, "We're lucky this one had a temper!"

Tjaeden chuckled lowly. "Almost not so lucky for me, however."

Ra'ziel gave an amused nod of agreement, brows raised.

_Boss, our resident princess doesn't seem too happy,_ Läeda warned, still grinning.

Tjaeden had to restrain from snickering at her usage of sarcasm. Thanks to the mental bond they shared, such Hunters companions advanced far beyond their wild counterparts, and what they continued to learn and pick up from their Draenei companions never ceased to amaze and amuse him.

Sure enough, true to Läeda's word, Azala approached the two males already with a manner of audacity, crossing her arms before her chest and looking down to them as a disapproving parent. Ra'ziel, his back to the female as he worked, pulled back his obsidian hair and contorted his face into a rude but not entirely incorrect imitation of her, causing Tjaeden to stifle a bark of laughter.

"You find something amusing, _Endama_?" she said to Tjaeden, clearly meaning the endearing term to be used insultingly. She trained her gaze upon him; her sharp and narrow features left little room for softness, leaving him with the impression of some predatory bird--a correlation Tjaeden thought to be amusingly appropriate. She tossed a lock of azure hair over the crest of her horns while she impatiently awaited his response.

Tjaeden looked back to his work, unwilling to give her the courteousy of eye-contact. "If you're here to chastise, _Indala_," he began; Ra'ziel snickered at this, "there is no need. As you see, we have clearly succeeded in our trial."

"That's right," came a fourth reply. Approaching from behind Azala, another Huntress entered the kill scene, casually refitting her crossbow upon her back. From the fullness of her curves to the overall gentleness of her nature, she was a soft and gracious contrast to her fellow Huntress. She made no effort to curb the expertly placed sway of her hips even as she felt Ra'ziel's eyes stray from his tasks and focus on her momentum. Sidling by the fallen buck, she looked it over carefully and made a low whistle of awe.

"Very nice… if _Yu'tari_ Taeredas isn't impressed by this, then I don't know _what_ will," she said, to which the other two males nodded their agreement.

Azala sent her an offended stare, but the other female pretended to not even notice, joining her other companions instead. Tjaeden smiled a greeting to his good friend as she knelt beside him. She returned it, sharing his same enthusiasm for the success—even if it _was_ by an impossibly narrow margin.

"Bah…You're bleeding Tjaeden," she motioned to his wounds that dribbled dark cobalt blood.

"Ah, thank you Khas, but nothing to worry about my--" he began, but Khasmia wouldn't take no for an answer as she took Tjaeden's hands from his work and inspected them. Tjaeden watched as his flesh cinched and tied back together before his eyes and coalesced into perfectly healed skin, leaving only smears of half dried blood as a testament to the former injury.

"Thank you, Khas," he said gratefully, his eyes briefly focusing on the glowing symbol that now hovered mere inches from her forehead. She nodded once and handed him another roll of rope, casting Ra'ziel a glance as she did so.

"You know, Raz….I have a _face_, too," she chuckled, "Did you know that?" Caught in the act, the male quickly shook his head in silent denial and immediately turned back to his task.

At this point, Azala had rapidly lost what little was left of her patience. "Do none of you seem to care that all of our _days_ of effort was nearly _wasted_?"

"Wasted?" Khasmia snorted. She gestured to the fallen stag. "I would have to say that this is worthy result, considering especially that it _was_ our trial,"

"Indeed," said Ra'Ziel, "and not only do we have enough to eat for ourselves, but plenty to return with home…!"

"Bah!" Azala waved her hand dismissively, "By pure _luck_! What would _Yu'tari_ Taeredas say if he saw this hunt?"

The other three looked at each other a moment.

"But _Yu'tari_ Taeredas _**wasn't**_ here," Khasmia countered, hardly fazed by the other woman's disapproval.

"Right!" Ra'Ziel nodded in agreement, "Which means that we can recount the hunt for him as _gloriously_ as we wish!"

At this his two friends laughed, already imagining the things they could come up with, but Azala's scowl only deepened.

"Tjaeden, you need to teach your large beast some discipline—she nearly cost us the hunt!"

Läeda growled indignantly from behind her Draenei, settled only by his assuring hand upon her forepaw.

"A _beast_!" Tjaeden gasped in mock offense. Khasmia's shoulders trembled slightly, doing her best to maintain a straight face at his ridiculous tone.

"I'll have you _know_ miss Azala, she is a **lady**…!" he insisted, flashing her a grin that made her want nothing more than to finish off what the stag could not.

"If **that** thing is lady, then _I'm_--"

"An _Orcess_?" Ra'ziel snickered. He protested loudly as she landed a solid smack on the back of his head.

"Fine! _Act_ like _children_—by the next trial, it will be clear to our _Yu'tari_ that **I **am fit to lead our Huntresses! At least I know how to coordinate a hunt with _efficiency_," she said bitterly, a faint snarl following the last of her words.

With a sharp whistle, a great snowy owl dove from seemingly nowhere and alighted on her outstretched glove. Even the eyes of the avian seemed to glare at the others with an accusing stare as his mistress walked away to assist the remaining Huntress.

The three friends exchanged glances before a nearly unanimous shrug, rising to their hooves and hauling the great white buck over Läeda's strong back.

"And _that's_ why her father says she'll never find a mate," Khasmia sighed, much to the amusement of her male counterparts.

"By the Light," Ra'ziel said dryly, "I couldn't imagine _why_…"


	6. Lightwalking is a Bitch

**AN:** _I am **so** sorry I took so long!!_ XX

A lot has been going on, and to tell you the truth, I let my addiction to WoW get too out of control...so I'm taking a break, even though I finally reached 70 a month ago. -sobs-

But the good news is...you should be seeing a lot more updates!! :D W00t! And t his next chapter is EXTREMELY LONG, and the next one after that medium sized, to make up for this story that has taken me...um..3/4 of a year. -blush-

Now, special thanks to Avian Obscurities, Nara Bluestar, and Solandra, who are all fantastic authors as well as reviewers. Please dont smack me if I butchered your names. Your reviews were all prompt and made me feel great--I live for reviews!

And thanks to EVRERYONE who reviewed or even favorited. I do notice. -hug- Also, I am open to ALL suggestions and comments. If you want, you can reach me on Aedion on Thorium Brotherhood (--Alliance), or Azrelyn on MoonGuard (--Horde), or by emails.

Now...Onward!

**DISCLAIMER:** Um...no...If I owned WoW, I wouldn't be writing fanfic on it.

--

"_Kaela sar_! Hold your shield, _Indal_!"

Aedion ground her teeth to withhold a string of…less than holy protests.

_Hold your shield…_

But the shield was heavy, and ungainly, and the more she tried to utilize it correctly, the clumsier she felt. She lifted the massive plate buffer so that it topped at her shoulder and ended at her knees—standard block. The smooth, marbline floor of the temple hall felt lopsided under her hooves as the rest of her body assumed position, but she knew that it was her core balance, not the floor, that was lopsided. How was she supposed to place her center of gravity when she had to use half of her strength just to haul her shield?

The female grimaced inwardly as she felt the scrutinizing stares of her fellow Lightwalkers who mingled between the great crystalline pillars on either side of the dueling floor. Her _Yu'tari_ knew she was…well…_incompetent_ with a shield, why would he allow such an audience? Her muscles tensed as she felt the creeping seizure of embarrassment arise with very passing moment.

Luminescent eyes narrowed past her short black hair at her opponent. Azrien stood poised and ready before the female, massive shield hoisted effortlessly before his muscled body so that only his hooves and quietly swaying tail were visible below it. An impressive long-spear was tightly gripped in his other hand, the weapon raised ready a few inches above the shoulder. Azrien was more than adept with his shield, and certainly no lightweight with his build like an Elekk--she had a feeling that she'd have better luck breaking through a solid wall.

The serrated blade glinted in the light of the crystals. Even to her practiced eyes, he hardly moved. Relaxed, yet ready. Not even a bat of the eye. And thankfully, not a single taunt.

Though she was grateful for his professionalism, she couldn't help but feel horribly envious for his ability to balance both the shield and his weapon with flawless coordination.

"_Indal_, the same basic coordination that applies to your weapon also applies to your shield—it is an extension of yourself! Let it move _with_ you, not _after_ you," came the patroning instruction from her _Yu'tari_.

The elder Draenei walked in slow, watchful circles around the two opposing fighters, disregarding all other observing students and onlookers present within the hall. Signs of great age were evident in everything from his weathered, whitening skin to the wispy braid falling past his shoulders that had lost its color and vibrancy long ago. And although it had been many years since this old fighter had donned armor, the strength in his step and the power in his voice was testament enough of his former glory for anyone to happen upon him. There wasn't an apprentice in the temple that didn't venerate his ability to fill an entire hall with his trademark commanding presence.

With everyone respectfully silent, only the slow, hollow clack of his hooves and the voice of his instructions echoed throughout the towering chambers. Aedion resisted the temptation to glance at anything other than her opponent as she felt her Master's eyes burning into her back.

"Release your tension, _Indal_, and let the Light fill you with your needed strength. An injury is always more severe if you are wound up tightly," he added.

Aedion nodded once her acknowledgment, but she didn't feel as if she could oblige—she was ever increasingly aware of the many eyes observing her defeat.

It was several long moments later and another half circle of her _Yu'tari_ before he stopped, and clapped his palms together once. The sound rang through the silent tension with a deafening clarity.

"**Begin**!"

Immediately, a runic pattern of light spread at the feet of both opponents, disappearing as quickly as it had come.

Aedion flew at her adversary with expert grace—and knowing that as soon as her hoofs lifted from the ground that she had lost all of it. The shield dragged horribly in the air behind her like a mighty anchor.

Azrien took advantage of her poor balance to push outward with his shield in a powerful knock back. The female quickly alighted to her hooves, evading several strikes from the serrated pole-arm with her practiced, though inhibited, agility. Doing her best to focus on her opponent and shake the dazed vision from her head, she countered the next series of his attacks with clumsy, barely acceptable parries.

Aedion's eyes widened as she suddenly noticed a golden opportunity: in raising his shield and arching his weapon for another strike, Azrien had left his unarmored feet exposed. Her hand gripped tightly on the mace as she called on the Light within for a blessing of strength.

In a great clash of metal, a flurry of motions, and flash of radiant light flaring from both sides, it was over within mere moments.

Aedion found herself once more spread before her opponent like an ungainly fawn, the right side of her face already swelling rapidly with blood. Azrien, clearly victorious, back-stepped courteously and resumed a standby position as the female finished healing her wounds and ghastly bruises. Dark blue stained her cheeks not with blood, but with the flush of humiliation as she heard the whisperings of her surrounding Lightwalkers. Students and Masters alike witnessing her incompetence, she thought with bitterness.

The Draenei ground her teeth silently in furious anxiety, unwilling to endure this new and raw emotion of shame. Exhaling slowly to calm her nerves, Aedion sent a silent prayer for the temple floor to swallow her into the bellies of the earth. She could recall very few moments where she had felt so ashamed—it was an awful feeling, at very best.

"Indal…" her _Yu'tari_ began (the combination of disapproval and sympathy in his voice made Aedion nearly wretch), "You have learned all of your lessons exceedingly, yet this obstacle you _cannot seem to pass_…"

Aedion stared intently at the ground, too paralyzed with humiliation to rise. "I…I will pass this…I will learn the ways of the shield…"

She didn't have to even look at her _Yu'tari_ to know that he was already shaking his head. "You have failed every trial with your shield. You know the significance of such a thing! A Vindicator without her shield might as well cast away her **Libram** as well!"

Aedion's eyes slid to the heavy tome chained about her waist, and she bit her lip angrily. She had done so **well** until this _ridiculous_ trial… One of the top of her class until _that_ thing became necessary—she glowered at her shield.

Her _Yu'tari_ sighed quietly, taking advantage of the moment to inspect her carefully, ever walking his slow, repetitive circle about his two students until he stopped just behind the young woman.

"Perhaps, then… this is not the path for you…"

Aedion was not the only one to emanate a startled gasp among the great hall. She looked up to him from her place on the floor with disbelieving eyes. His face was only stern.

Not…for this path? But she was _born_ to be a Vindicator! To be a Lightwalker of any sort was a _divine_ verdict, not one chosen lightly. And now that she had already become of age… she was far too old to become anything else successfully, or at least anything _worthy_. The dishonor it would bring to the Shal'aari bloodline…

She could not remember a student having ever been discharged of their divine path except for the most abhorrent of reasons. Her skills were surpassed only by her Masters, but this shield…it had revealed a spot of incompetence.

"My _Yu'tari_…please," she raised her cupped palms in a gesture of mercy, "I would try a **thousand** more times until I pass!" she pleaded.

He seemed utterly unmoved by this. "But I do not have a thousand more days in which to wait!" he said solemnly, "It is a great shame that _one_ trial only has left you behind us…"

"**NO**!" she cried, rising franticly to her hooves. The sudden action startled many, and even her ancient Master quirked his brow in the most subtle of ways. Though such an outburst was normally looked down upon, he made no move to reprimand her actions.

"No…?" he echoed calmly, "Azrien clearly has surpassed you every time… Perhaps it would be best for you to turn in your Libram and take up a path of _shop-keeping_ instead…"

The audience of Lightwalkers exchanged glances, unsure if the elder Master was truly serious or finally senile. But then again, trials **were** _trials_…

Aedion spun around towards Azrien and offered him a challenging gesture. "Fight me…!" she demanded. Anger emanated powerfully from her body, a fury that was normally disciplined to suppress, and yet…seemed almost controlled. It was a strange sensation, arriving suddenly and without warning through the veins in her body. Had she not also been so fearful for all at stake, the sensation would have puzzled her.

The male rose a brow and gave a questioning glance to his _Yu'tari_. The old Master simply nodded once his permission.

Though clearly puzzled, the Draenei did not dare argue his superior's decision, and again readied himself for combat.

What his opponent did next though, nearly shattered his focus; with a furious arc of her arm, the large shield on her arm flew to the floor and eventually slid across the marble to meet an earsplitting halt against a pillar. She stood solid, ready--and shield-less. In her furious determination, the short black hair framing her angled face and narrowed almond eyes gave her an almost cruel appearance.

Azrien flicked his tail to the side uncertainly and tilted his head.

"Aedion…? My friend, I hardly find this fair if you are unguarded…"

"I will be fine, Azrien." She said simply.

Her opponent did not seem so sure.

"I do not wish you undue harm…"

"Azrien…" a hint of a growl emanated from her voice, "I assure you that I will be _fine_…" This must be done. Her life and her honor was on the line; the honor of her family, to boot.

Aedion wasn't sure why she had let her anger get the better of her, but this anger felt…different. Cleansing, almost, as if she could conquer the temple place and be righteous in doing so. As if the lesser known biting edge of the Light sought to strengthen her. It felt…good. Very good. Damn good.

"My friend…I do not think it wise to--"

Azrien had to cut off his own words as she charged him with astonishing speed. No longer weighed or offset by the shield, Aedion's core balance and fighter's grace was once more intact. A brow laden with determination crowned her gaze, and it was all Azrien could do to keep the shield in between his body and her furiously flying mace.

Like a violent dance, the two opponents made great effort to out maneuver each other, stepping this way and that in between more complicated and expert motions in the art of combat. Aedion would have grinned had she not been so furious, feeling as if she had the strength of an Elekk behind the nimbleness of a feline.

Azrien's eyes widened as one of her well-placed blows struck a heavy dent into the plate of his shield. He was not yet used to his opponent having sufficient speed and power, and nor was she giving him a moment to adjust. The Draenei narrowed his own eyes and called upon his talents of Protection, sending a second powerful blow towards the offending opponent. To his utter disbelief, however, Aedion pressed her free palm forward and rode the shield as it was thrust partially skywards, landing squarely behind him in a not entirely graceful (but nevertheless effective) manner.

This mace…it was a fine weapon, but Azrien was certainly more than a tough opponent. Considering also his specializations, a single-handed toy would hardly do. No…she needed something more sufficient.

Azrien didn't even have time to whirl around as a hoof from a powerful kick came in contact with his lower spine. Aedion nearly smirked to herself, ignoring his snarl of pain. Had she been a male opponent, that dirty little trick wouldn't have done well at all, but her smaller, feminine hooves were just the right size to find that unprotected spot between his armor.

Despite the pain, the male quickly rolled to his back to face his adversary; Aedion's mace came down upon his elbow. With muffled groan, the pole-arm fell freely from his hand. She sent her mace flying across the floor out of his reach and quickly armed herself with his serrated long-spear.

Yes…this weapon felt right—a proper weapon required both hands.

A little less agile than before, Azrien quickly rose to his feet, seeming suddenly startled that he was caught unarmed. His shield baring arm rose to protect him against any attack, but the broadside of the serrated blade found opportunity and whacked him hard along the side of his head and a second time in his neck.

It was only with great effort that Aedion restrained herself from grinning with the knowledge the fight was already won. Finally—and oasis of victory among a desert of failure. Dazed and fighting to retain what little was left of his vision, Azrien was vulnerable to the sweeping shaft if the pole-arm that pulled his feet from under his massive bulk. With a thunderous clatter of armor and flesh, Azrien fell heavily to the marbaline floor.

Aedion suppressed a tremendous whoop of victory and instead remained silent as she placed a hoof upon his plated chest and the blade to his throat, her own chest rising and falling rapidly as she quickly caught her breath. The fight had nearly been as quick as all the others, only with (in her opinion) much more favorable results.

"_**Aetche'da**_!" her Master bellowed, immediately ending the duel. Aedion withdrew her pole-arm and indulged herself to spin it twice in gleeful triumph before letting it stand by her side. The hall erupted in a tide of low voices and harsh whisperings, ranging form the approving, to the amused, to the suspicious. Either way, Aedion no longer cared. Shield or no shield, she had won.

"You see, Master? Not everyone needs a shield to conquer," she said confidently, still on the high of her victory. She stepped from Azrien's body and cast away her weapon and help her unfocused and somewhat hazy friend to his hooves.

"I am glad to see that you still treat your opponent with compassion, _Indala_, and not pride…"

Nearly everyone, including her _Yu'tari_, turned their gaze to face the owner of the soft voice that reverberated wisdom. A petite, but no less impressive visitor clad in shimmering robes approached past the audiences to the dueling floor. Everyone present offered respective gestures of high reverence for this female who pretended not to take notice; her gaze was for the two students and their _Yu'tari_ only.

Aedion respectfully touched her first two fingers to her lips and immediately murmured the praise, "_Ve Dyonis akka, Xa'Dala_,"

Azrien, too, touched his lips, though faintly, for his head still swam with the force of impact.

Aedion knew this one well—High Priestess Ishnaelu was one of the most ancient of her people, equal among her other four Holy Sisters and second only to the Most High Velen. The five High Priestesses carefully monitored the Light and its ways on levels Aedion as a student could barely understand. Since her mother, Vaelandra, was destined to take her place as one of the five Holy Matriarchs, the appearance of High Priestess Ishnaelu was a fairly common occurrence in her life. For everyone else, it was a celebrity visit.

If Aedion's _Yu'tari_ appeared well in his elderly years, the revered Priestess was as ancient as the Light itself. Her darkened indigo skin had since faded into a powdered blue: lined, creased, and well weathered with her great age. Dark violet locks, however, had not lost even a hint of their vibrancy, and were pulled regally to the top of her scalp past her dramatically curling horns that spiraled back endlessly—they would not cease growing until death. The fanning, jeweled crest that rose from her extravagant robes and surrounded her face further imposed her authorative figure.

The High Priestess smiled warmly and nodded her head once in recognition to the daughter of her former apprentice. A gentle glow illuminated from her fingertips, and with but a casual wave of her elegant hand, Azrien's severe disorientation diminished. The ancient one took a few more paces towards the two students, maintaining an unwavering gaze. Aedion silently marveled at how although the Elder's movements had slowed with age, she had not lost a shred of her grace. The way she picked her hooves silently and delicately from under her robes reminded Aedion much of her own mother.

"To _conquer_, mm…?" she continued. A small chuckle escaped her throat, a sound soothing despite its subtle rasp. "Now that is an unusual choice of words…Usually you Warriors of the Light prefer such terms such as "protect" and "overcome"…"

"Forgive me, _Xa'Dala--_"

"Forgive what?" the elder scoffed, "Is that not what happened? By my own sight, I would say that was conquering indeed…"

Aedion blushed deeply and nodded quietly at the praise, but the High Priestess did not miss the small smile of pride that briefly appeared on her lips. She did not chastise this.

"Goodness, child…" she murmured, taking Aedion's chin within her weathered palm and lifting it in careful inspection. The Lightwalker apprentice did not dare to object.

"You look almost as a reflection of your mother, and you are older now than she when I first accepted her under my mantle! _Pah_…Time does pass quickly, it seems…" She sent Aedion a knowing wink. "By the Light, I may have outlasted Time."

A polite tap of a heavy hoof and a slight clearing of his throat reminded the exalted Lightbearer of the older Vindicator's presence. She slipped her hand away from Aedion's face to clasp them together, smiling expectantly at the old _Yu'tari_.

"Yes, Madreaus?" she inquired politely, but her gaze remained expectant. _Yu'tari_ Madreaus, too, would have appeared expectant were it not for his blatantly curious gaze that drank in the lack of formality and entourage that usually accompanied the Matriarch. Any entrance of hers was no small spectacle, and the fact that she arrived alone of her own accord intrigued everyone present.

"Seeing as, you are now the most Exalted Lightwalker present, the verdict of their duel rests upon your mantle, Lady Matriarch." he said in the politest reminder.

Matriarch Ishnaelu raised her thin brows in recognition of the custom, casting a brief glance back towards the pair of Aedion and Azrien.

"Ah, of course, of course!" she sighed pleasantly; the ornaments of her robes chimed lightly as her arms outstretched. "In my reverie, I had nearly overlooked such a measure of import… very well then."

She cleared her throat delicately and nodded once, allowing a regal pause before speaking.

"By the right yielded to me by Lord Madreaus, I declare Apprentice Aedionae Xa'a of the Shal'aari blood victorious, thus granting a pass to this Fifth of Seven trials of Vindication."

The hall erupted in a few lines of perfectly synced mantra, dozens of voices resounding throughout the chamber as one before once more becoming abruptly silent.

Lord Madreaus surveyed the audiences of his many students in the mixed company of curious priests with a careful eye before offering a nod of finality.

"Dismissed."

The chamber one again erupted in voice, though now in exclamation and idle chatter among exclusive groups as the dueling floor became flooded with the dispersing crowd.

Despite the number of gathered people, the most High Priestess had no difficulty in approaching the old Vindicator patron--everyone was more than willing to offer her a wide, respectful berth. The skin around her luminescent eyes gained many more creases as she narrowed her eyes to study him carefully. The old _Yu'tari_ bowed his respect as she did so, knowing well that this was the only pair of eyes that could see straight through him, with significant exception to the Prophet himself.

"You…disapprove, Madreaus?" she asked curiously, stationing herself by his side to watch the sea of apprentices mill about.

The old Yu'tari mulled a few moments, his silence an answer enough, even if only to pick his words carefully. "No… Though I will admit, your Holiness, that some of the skill and technique she exhibited was…less than _conventional_."

The ancient Matriarch chuckled lowly at this. "You do not permit your students the path of Retribution here?"

Lord Madreaus shook his heavy head and briefly closed his eyes. "Such a path is…complicated, and dangerous, leaving too many younglings easily swayed and tempted by black virtues such as revenge and anger."

"I thought not…" she said simply, tail flicking, "Some of the maneuvers were not refined—though as you could see, nevertheless served their purpose."

The two elders stood in silence for a few moments, content to digest each other's word and simply observe the youth surrounding them.

"Come, come," the Matriarch suddenly requested, laying a hand upon the old Vindicator's upper arm and guiding him through the sea of students. "No offspring of a dam that I raised as my own child would ever fall wayward to a heartless path swept in darkness, Madreaus…"

When he did not appear entirely convinced, she offered a feather-light pat upon his great shoulder and smiled knowingly. "And under your guidance, after all…that young one will not walk wayward."

"I surely hope not, High Lightbearer, for she, among quite a few others, blossom with hope and promise…I would rather not willingly submit them to a path that I find uneasy in its teachings."

"The Light works in mysterious ways, my old friend, have Faith—all will see itself through in the end. May it be so."

"May it be so," he echoed.

"Now," she began promptly, whisking her robes slightly, "Miss Aedion's fate among the Vindicators can take pause for awhile, as I believe there was a matter of import I intended to discuss…"

Aedion swept her gaze about the crowded floor until they lifted to catch sight of the backs of her _Yu'tari_ and her mother's Matriarch. Still absolutely brimming with the sudden but glorious taste of her success, she was hardly surprised to see a familiar face nearly launch at her from the milling crowd.

"**Brilliant**! By the _Light_ that was some timing on the Matriarch's part! May the Light preserve her," the arrived Draenei chattered excitedly, obscuring all view of the elder teachers from Aedion's vision and leading her gleefully by the upper arm. Her hooves clacked excitably against the lacquered stone.

"For a moment there, I thought our _Yu'tari_ had finally…" her friend trailed off, eyes darting about suspiciously, "well, you know…_lost it_."

Aedion tilted her head back a little and let out a slight laugh, though her relief was evident. "I am glad that I was not the only one with this opinion…!" she said, to which her friend nodded her eager agreement.

The other female had a way of seeming messy and everywhere all at one time despite meticulously maintaining an utterly _immaculate_ appearance. She was constantly running or bouncing seemingly two places at once, and was always absently brushing away a non-existent stray dark blue hair from her smooth oval face. Hefting her shield to her back, she raised her elegant brows to Aedion in a most bemused expression and a jovial smile. The other female returned her grin, unable to maintain any true jealousy in the face of such humorous companionship.

Side by side and chatting animatedly, the two made their way towards the temple steps, passing by rows of great columns and numerous other students and masters. Once outside into the courtyard, Aedion took a deep breath of the cool evening air and looked up towards the sky, quietly marveling how the sea of heaven's stars illuminated the great Temple like some gem of the moon.

"Come _on,_ now!" Jaela insisted, urging her friend with a playful nudge to the back. Aedion snorted, her eyes finally casting down towards the level of the earth as she followed Jaela towards the Temple lifts. Spread below them, numbering to the hundreds, the great Temple steps gave way to the next level's courtyard, as it was for every magnificent tier until it finally met the earth. Aedion's eyes swept over the sea of blue and green lanterns that bobbed and swung from every window and post, working in unison with the torches to cast the city in its gentle arcane glow. By day or by night, all of the metals, gems, and precious stone of Furahlon gleamed differently, but it was all beautiful in her eyes. Not even the twisting architecture of the Spire of the Sorcerers towered over this temple, making the Draenei feel as if she was on a platform to heaven.

"I'm grateful for these," the Vindicator apprentice finally sighed as her hooves touched the lift, "Spending an hour or more climbing all of the stairs to each of the tiers was murder."

Jaela snickered. "Or suicide."

"Some would argue that walking their way up every tier as needed built character, and a sense of purpose to their devotion."

Both women, startled by the third voice on the lift, turned to face the owner.

Jaela uttered a small gasp, while Aedion's eyes widened.

"Osiron…"

Both of them hesitated in their surprise for only a moment longer before snapping a sharp salute to their Vindicator superior.

The great soldier stood a good head taller than most other males, his impressive size a clear indicative to his superior strength that warriors and vindicators alike aspired to attain, supporting his heavy plate armor as easily as if it were no more than a simple robe. Jaela's eyes couldn't help but stare blatantly at his skin, unique and very rare in its shade of deep black—something that successfully intimidated the students if his bulk alone couldn't. Several rings adorned his tendrils and a few puckered scars were visible across his face whenever the lantern of the lift swung in their direction. He made for an interesting man, if not many other things.

A small smile curled the ends of his lips, the chuckle escaping them as low and deeply reverberant as his actual voice. He took a couple of slow steps towards the females, and Aedion wondered how such heavy hooves could have had any stealth to surprise them as he did.

"Please, I don't seek formalities…" he said, seizing Aedion's free hand and nearing it to his lips. "Not from my _future mate_…"

Jaela quirked a brow.

Aedion returned his smile but her curled tail was a clear sign of her unease. Fortunately, for her, he could not see. Instead the young woman chuckled lightly and attempted to subtly withdraw her hand from his, her knuckles burning where his lips had touched.

"Sir, with all due respect, you assume so much…" she said quietly.

By now the lift had landed back to the city's second tier, hooves clicking unto the smooth cobblestone as the three left together. Osiron gave Aedion's hand a firm squeeze, turning around to face her and pulling her in before she could protest. He chuckled in amusement as her wide eyes looked up into his; he found them beautiful.

"Ah! Did I not insist that formalities are unnecessary?" he chided, though his words held no anger. When she was struggling to respond, his eyes took their time in appreciatively eyeing her form, knowing that the dramatic curves in her armor hinted at more tantalizing ones underneath. Something Jaela noticed of him with narrowed eyes.

"You should allow yourself in civilian clothing more often instead if our typical regalia…it's very suitable." he said.

Jaela snorted and clicked her hoof against the stone before she could stop herself. "Or more _revealing_, you mean."

Osiron paused, slowly turning to look at her. His eyes were hard and cold as they faced away from Aedion and landed upon the other apprentice. She straightened her shoulders and attempted to look unfazed, although she nearly hissed with regret for crossing him. She had seen many results of those that did, even females included. Giving up on her stout resolve, her hands immediately flipped open so that her palms faced the starry sky in the traditional gesture for mercy or pardon.

"But Sir—erm…._Osiron_…" Aedion began. She nearly winced as she introduced herself to the unusual concept of using only his name, but if it took his seething attention away from Jaela…

The Draenei quietly sighed her relief as he now calmly turned back towards Aedion, making her even more painfully aware that her hand still remained locked in his powerful grasp.

"Aren't we…all civilians? Of our city? I thought the Warriors were our military, should the need arise…"

Osiron released deep echoing chuckle, slightly shaking his head. "Aedion, my sweet one…when will you finally accept that we, as Lightwalkers, are above the others?"

"Above…?" she hesitantly answered.

He nodded sternly. "Yes, above! We are the pinnacle of our people, their bridge to the Light, the frame of their cities. Therefore we are superior to their other crafts."

Aedion's brow furrowed worriedly. This kind of thinking reminded her too much of…well, she didn't dare even think of it, but it unsettled her all the same. Then again, he certainly wasn't the only Vindicator to put themselves above anyone not Lightwalking.

"Oh…I only thought that as a community, we required everyone's trade and skills, like a circle." she said lowly. She half wondered if she was pushing him, but he seemed only resolute in his opinion and nothing more.

"But without us, they would surely fail, you see. We could discard obsolete Warriors and useless Magi." he insisted.

The two women dared not argue that much of their combat technique was derived from Warrior tradition, or that the Sorcerer's arcane power kept much of their city functioning smoothly. It was pointless to argue to with a solid rock.

"You are right, of course," Aedion smiled thinly, "I only need time to become accustomed to my...higher path."

Osiron's lips pulled into a victorious smile that made both females secretly seethe.

He squeezed Aedion's hand just a little tighter and inched her closer. Aedion clenched her teeth in an anxiety that was foreign to her.

"I knew that I chose well; I would expect nothing less from my own choice." He said lowly.

Before she could formulate a response, he leaned down a little and rubbed his cheek against hers—a gesture that was reserved only for mates and blood kin, and one that made her blood boil and body freeze all at once. She could feel his body vibrate slightly with the frequency of his purr.

"And you _will_ be mine…very soon." He whispered into her ear. His breath on her skin made her shudder, and she silently praised the Light when he did not take notice. Beyond that, the insinuations of his words made her blush furiously, something that he was rarely able to provoke form her but was immensely pleased whenever he did.

Finally, from only a few paces away, a fourth voice rang out.

"Miss Aedion?" it inquired.

Osiron stood and whirled around like a threatened panther, curling up his lips and snarling at the younger male that dare intrude.

The young Magi apprentice raised his brows in surprise, but only for a moment before his expression returned to normal. He was one of the few the two women had seen who appeared unruffled by the older, stronger male's intimidation, likely (Aedion assumed) because of his confidence in a power not invested in brawn. Still, it was amusing to see a mere student stand with confidence against the plate-armored behemoth.

"Yes, well, that was all a bit much, I would think." The apprentice sighed, looking bored if not slightly irritated. "It's not as if I have intentions on her."

Osiron's body rumbled slightly as another snarl threatened to break. "And how would I know this?"

The Magi student rolled his eyes. "Well, for one, I couldn't see her around your hulking form, hence, why my addressing her sounded so uncertain."

Without further ado, the apprentice snapped a sealed roll of parchment towards Osiron.

"This is for the Miss. It bears the seal of Lord Madreaus." He said simply as the opposing Vindicator snatched the scroll away and peered at it with scrutiny.

"I can see that," he growled.

The student appeared to look relieved, though it was quite clearly sarcastic in every way. "Oh, _good_! How embarrassing it would be if you couldn't read…!"

Behind Osiron's back, Aedion stifled a giggle, something that thankfully went by unnoticed. If the parchment wasn't of such clear importance, the larger Draenei would have crushed it in his palm. His cold, seething glare did not even faze the young man as he turned his back on the Vindicator and bowed to Jaela with flourish.

He handed the parchment to her, brushing his fingers against her hand in a gesture that Aedion suspected was more purposeful than accidental. He smiled coyly, making her friend shy, but very pleased nonetheless.

"And for the Lady Jaela A'hm Suri..." he smiled slightly, before facing the group as a whole. "Don't bother asking me what he sent them for, I have no idea. I'm merely playing the messenger." He pointedly fixed his gaze upon Osiron. "If there is _any_ problem my friend, you can speak to my Master back at the Spire."

Jaela smirked, knowing the dark Vindicator wouldn't dare sully himself with Magi anytime soon.

"You are dismissed, apprentice." Osiron said bluntly.

The student nodded once in his agreement. "Oh, thank the _Light_…this was all becoming rather awkward."

Jaela giggled, smiling as she and him stole one last glance of each other before departing.

Taking the moment of silence, Aedion quickly cleared her throat, catching Osiron's attention.

"Um…it seems these scrolls are a matter of import…I think it would be best if Jaela and I saw to them promptly." She said, trying her best not to appear hopeful. He smiled down at her, gently tapping her under the chin with a final nod.

"Indeed. The Lord's word is law." He agreed.

Before he found another excuse to make a more personal goodbye, Aedion sent him a smile before hurrying past him towards Jaela, the two walking briskly among the crowds of people and carts.

"We have much to discuss…!" Jaela muttered.

Aedion nodded in agreement, a glint in her eye. "Yes, we do…like who that young Magi w--"

"_Ohhh_!" Jaela groaned, wrinkling her nose and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "I just **knew** you would bring Yeris up…"

Aedion immediately halted, making her friend jerk slightly as she grabbed her upper arm.

"You know him by _name only_..?!" she whispered. When Jaela gulped, her friend's grin widened.

"Are you…are you two actually--"

"Yes—he's courting me…"

"Since **when**?!"

"Seven suns ago…"

"And your mother and grandmother _approved_ of this…?"

Jaela barely managed to squeak a "no," making Aedion's jaw drop at her friend's unexpected audacity and defiance.

Aedion stared at her friend for a few silent moments. "Are you…are you _serious _Jaela?"

"_**Yes**_…!" she hissed. Her eyes darted around as if anyone could be listening, though the crowds hustled by without a care to their conversation.

Aedion's open mouth slipped into another grin. "You _know_ your mother will raise the underworld when she finds out."

"_IF _she finds out…" Jaela murmured.

"_If_? Do plan on being mated at some point or simply courting until you're both bags of bones?"

Jaela whimpered. "But…without my father, my mother would have to give the trials…and I _know_ she wouldn't do that…"

Her eyes suddenly widened, and her hands gripped Aedion's shoulders with a vengeance, causing her scroll to crinkle slightly.

"You won't **tell** anyone, will you?" she begged.

Aedion shook her head vigorously. "No, Jaela! Of course not…But you still must give me all of the delicious details!"

Jaela giggled, visibly more relaxed. She nodded once and again began to steer her friend by the arm, nearly bouncing in her steps.

"Alright! But, Oh Light…I don't even know where to _begin_…"


	7. My Sharona

"…and that's when Läeda dragged the stag back to the rest of us," Ra'ziel concluded

"…and that's when Läeda dragged the stag back to the rest of us," Ra'ziel concluded.

Taeredas raised a skeptical brow. "The mighty stag, this King of Grasslands, that one of you strangled _with your bare hands_…?"

Tjaeden had to concentrate on something in the distance in order to keep from snickering. Having returned from the hunt merely a day and a night later, the small hunting party now stood in the formation of a single line before their_ Yu'tari_ under the morning sun. Though it was tradition to stand at respectful attention, he could clearly see his teammates attempting to retain their composure.

He didn't blame them—Ra'ziel was a fantastic liar when need be, and often his tales that included only the simplest things were told in elaborate and epic proportions.

As he glanced at his surroundings from their place behind Furahlon's massive crystalline gates, Tjaeden was almost disappointed to be back in the city again. True, they had succeeded in their endeavor, even if it _was_ being retold in glorified exaggeration, but he wasn't sure that their _Yu'tari_ would permit a passing decision with success based on dumb luck. Taeredas, as was well known, was an exceptional and experienced hunter, one the rest of the Trackers and Huntresses followed almost religiously—put simply, he was certainly no fool.

Daen quietly nudged Khasmia as a giggle escaped the other Draenei. Taeredas, however, pretended not to notice as he continued to study the dramatically gesturing young male before him.

"Then tell me, Ra'ziel…" Taeredas said slowly, carefully inspecting the great white body of the stag slung over an Elekk's back, "why the bones in its neck are _broken_ in several places?"

Tjaeden could feel the others tense, and—to his disgust—Azala smirk, but Ra'ziel hardly missed a beat as he quickly covered their tracks. "Surely from the struggle of having the life squeezed from him! Possibly even from the transporting—if I may say, _Yu'tari_ Taeredas, its body was tossed about quite a bit."

Tjaeden winced—that was a weak excuse, at best. Taeredas took one last look at Ra'ziel before turning his eyes to the stag, and then back at Ra'ziel again. He quirked a thick brow, and although he used no words and no anger marred his features, his apprentices quieted their tittering and sobered immediately. It was clear that their _Yu'tari_ was not actually inquiring Ra'ziel, but offering him a chance of redemption.

"Oho?" he finally chuckled, rumbling grave amusement like an old lion. "Did you bite its neck, Ra'ziel?"

The young male squinted at his _Yu'tari_ as if his elder had gone barking mad. "Have I--_what_, Sir?"

Taeredas did well to hide his smile. "Bitten. Did you _bite_ it?"

Ra'ziel appeared appalled, but a few of his peers giggled at the imagery.

"For the love of the Light, _**no**_!" he fiercely protested, too baffled to see the trap he had blundered into.

"Hmm," the master Hunter hummed, "then this _surely_ is strange…" Suddenly, and without warning, their _Yu'tari_ closed the distance between he and Ra'ziel within a couple powerful strides and gripped the young male's jaw, turning his face this way and that as if inspecting livestock.

"_Sir_??" Ra'ziel questioned uncertainly, taken aback by this sudden approach and handling, yelping as the elder gave an experimental tug of a dark lock of hair. He raised an anxious hoof to back up, but the firmness in which he was held would not allow him far.

"Hm…" Taeredas murmured again, heavy brow furrowed in mock bewilderment; the others grinned widely at the amusing display.

Ra'ziel had no time to respond as Taeredas promptly plunged two fingers into the apprentice's jowls, peeling back his lips and exposing his ivory teeth to the city's gate. The look on his face nearly made his fellows roar with laughter, restraining themselves only for respect of the lesson their _Yu'tari_ was entertaining himself in teaching.

"**Well** now!" Taeredas declared triumphantly, "Those certainly aren't _wolfish_ teeth, are they now? Wolfish teeth that clearly made their signature rips over the neck flesh of the stag king…?"

The sound of clinking metals pierced the monotonous banter of the others and struck Tjaeden's ears and waning interest. The rhythm was synchronized, steady, matching that of the hoof steps that accompanied it in a no less than militaristic fashion.

His own focus on Ra'ziel's less than dignified situation rapidly wavering, Tjaeden allowed his eyes and attention to wander until they spotted the source—it truly wasn't difficult to miss it. With their bold postures and brilliantly glinting armor that looked as if they were forged from the ore of the sun, the two columns of Vindicators stood out starkly against the sea of people and animals almost startlingly. Had the rest of the city not been just as bright and glinting, Tjaeden would have thought the display grandeur, and possibly even a little obnoxious.

Though their traveling about the city was certainly not an unusual occurrence by any means, a slight berth was given to them in reverence for their walk of a Holy path. Similar to any path, however, the apprentices always followed in the wake of their superiors, though their less stoic and more animated nature set them more clearly apart from their masters than any physical position ever could.

His eyes searched the small group having by now lost all interest in Ra'ziel's rapidly failing cover up, curiosity leading him to wonder about a certain face that had long been kept away from his sights. Was she not following the path of a Lightwalker? Then she should be among them… Tjaeden began to slightly doubt his own memory. Though he didn't quite know what to expect, he began searching the faces of every apprentice in the columns…

"…but in any case…you have the blessing of Ishnaelu, and we both know that she does not give those so freely," Jaela continued, restlessly shifting the weight of her great shield unto her shoulder. Her eyes flickered searchingly for anything more interesting than the columns of armored bodies she was obliged to keep pace with. After long weeks at the temple, walks throughout the city were certainly a welcome diversion.

Aedion nodded once with a quiet hum of agreement. "I suppose…But it doesn't seem--……Jaela?" She chuckled at her friend's inattention, noticing that her distant gaze focused elsewhere. She nudged her with an indignant elbow, casting a brief, uninterested glance at the group that had caught Jaela's attention. The return and briefing of hunting parties was no unique occurrence.

"Sighting a _Beast Walker_ while I'm talking, are you?" she teased.

Jaela grinned halfway, turning her eyes only briefly to Aedion before casting them back beyond her friend's shoulder. She gestured in the direction of the hunter's lineup with a subtle upwards nod of her head.

"No…but I **am** curious about the one _clearly_ eyeing _you_…"

Aedion cocked an incredulous brow before turning her gaze to match this supposed other's. She snickered at the absurdity of the statement. "Oh? What makes you think I even kn--"

She hesitated, a single hoof suspended in the air as she froze mid step. With the exception of Jaela, the rest of the Vindicators continued on the shimmering road without notice.

Tjaeden knew he should have looked away, should have simply turned his attention away from her hauntingly familiar face and back to his _Yu'tari _where it belonged. After all, he hadn't exactly expected to actually _find_ her..! But such a task was impossible—her eyes ensnared his with the deadly efficiency of one of his own hunting traps, leaving him at a loss for word or action. The tail that had lazily swung behind him like a metronome came to a grinding halt.

There, so near before him, stood his old childhood friend. And yet, the young child so ingrained in his memory was replaced by lean muscles and fully rounded curves that made his mouth feel suddenly dry. Even with a buoyant, jovial step she carried her flesh sensually, giving the distinct feel as if every nerve in her body was smoldering. A warrior's grace guiding an exquisite form. Her face, though still smoothly rounded, held no trace of the childlike plumpness with her delicately angled jaw.

However, unchanged from her childhood habits was her short cut of black hair that fell loosely and carelessly over her finely arching horns and curled in feathery wisps above her eyes; it stuck out distinctly from the neat, careful styles of her peers and gave hint to a way of life not completely forgotten as a Trader's daughter.

Tjaeden urged himself to initiate a greeting, to wave, to nod—anything but simply stand there as if he only had half a wit to rely on. And he would have, too, had she not sent him that smile—that playful, appealing smile that was meant simply as a friendly gesture, but hinted an enticingly sultry note that landed him right back at square one, dumbstruck and speechless.

Light strike him…could that really be his old friend…? It certainly wasn't as if he had expected her to have been unsightly, or even the small child he remembered, but…neither had he thought his expectations—assuming he truly had any--to be so exceeded. Had he not still been so astonished, surely Tjaeden would not have considered this a bad thing by any means, or even realized (with ruffled feathers) that a single female had utterly bypassed his mighty hunters resolve.

She continued to smile at him as she slowly set her hoof back to the stone and turned away to rejoin her fellows. His gaze continued to follow her against his better judgment in a mixture of wonder, disbelief, and something else he would not readily admit to, raking her with his eyes that widened as his gaze traveled down past her cutely flickering tail to the plate leggings that scarcely covered her a—

"_**Tjaeden**_!"

The Draenei snapped to attention, tearing himself from his reverie at the sound of Taeredas' deep bark.

"Oh!--_Xa'Dama_?" he said quickly, his surprise causing his tongue to stumble ungracefully over his own words.

Taeredas glanced one way in the direction of the departing Vindicators, before sliding his stern gaze towards the younger male. The corner of his lips twitched in the slightest of smirks.

"Well then… I see you've noticed my…_daughter_…?" he said slowly, his voice thick with wry amusement.

Tjaeden's eyes widened, horrified, his face darkening a significant blue. Ra'ziel whooped loudly at his friend caught in the act and landed a hard slap on Tjaeden's back, nearly doubled over in his following laughter. He was not alone in his amusement, unfortunately, and the rest of the team shared a similar outburst. Tjaeden wanted nothing more than to sink in to the depths of the earth then, too embarrassed to even acknowledge Läeda's questioning mental nudge.

Taeredas stood there calmly, hardly taking his eyes from Tjaeden even though the younger one would not dare meet them. The younger male could nearly swear on the Light that his _Yu'tari_ was mentally dissecting him with assessment. After a long moment, Taeredas's hand finally raised for silence, though small snorts and snickers were still heard throughout the line.

"….I deem this trial completed _successfully_, even in light of the untraditional circumstances." Taeredas proclaimed, slowly walking down the line to examine each one of his students, who quieted immediately. Tjaeden looked up in surprise while the others momentarily forgot their amusement and whispered excitedly. However, only Azala seemed displeased by this verdict, indignantly narrowing her sharp eyes at the stone beneath her _Yu'tari's_ hooves.

"But…my _Yu'tari_….the hunt was successful only on the grounds of…well, _dumb luck_! No method was used, no strategy. I fe--"

"Enough, Azala," he commanded gently, but the firmness in his voice kept her from protesting further. "Is not the hunt unpredictable? I teach you these skills and tactics to aid you in your tasks, but nothing--especially with the wilds—is set in stone. If something _can_ go wrong, _it will_, and in order to survive, you must _adapt_. From what I hear, that is exactly what happened."

Azala remained still, only moving to nod her very grudging acceptance. She ignored Khasmia and Daenh's satisfied smirks as she silently smoldered.

Taeredas began to move back towards the other end of apprentice lineup. "Therefore… Tjaeden,"

Tjaeden was careful to stand at attention at the sound of his name, mentally wrestling down the reminder of his blunder.

"…The stag is yours to do with as you will."

Tjaeden nodded once, still not meeting Taeredas's gaze as the other Draenei addressed the team as a whole and therefore failed to notice Azala's murderous glower. He was merely glad that the subject had changed so rapidly—not all _Yu'tari_ would be so forgiving of such a potentially insulting misstep.

"Untraditional, but well done. Now, it is my wish that you go to the Huntresses for their blessing, and with them finish preparing the other beasts you felled. Your sixth trial will be given to you three days from now at Archaic's Rise."

As one, the students pressed their palms to their chests and chimed a respectful mantra before quickly dispersing to complete the given tasks.

Tjaeden made quickly for the Elekk still bearing the stag, signaling for the creature to kneel so that the body could be more easily reached. Ra'ziel, however, made his way through the group to join his friend, grinning ear to ear.

"Thank you, my friend," he chuckled, reaching up to assist Tjaeden in unburdening the Elekk.

Tjaeden raised a skeptical brow, frowning slightly. "For what…?"

"For giving me a great story to tell!" Ra'ziel explained.

The other Draenei snorted, finally getting the large animal to kneel so he could finish his task. "As if you should talk, Raz, with your eyes glued to Khasmia every chance you get,"

His friend only grinned, patting the Elekk's side with a hearty slap. "But she's also not my Master's daughter…."

A single hoof of Tjaeden's stamped once against the stone with a loud clack--a clear warning to Ra'ziel as he continued to unstrap the stag from the Elekk's saddle. Ra'ziel chuckled again, reaching near his friend's hands to help him untack the stag's large body, ignoring the gesture and Tjaeden's irritably swinging tail.

"Relax, my friend, I mostly jest. _Although_…"

When Ra'ziel did not finish his sentence, Tjaeden sent him a questioning glace. "Although _what_?"

The other Draenei pointed to his own chin. "I think you left a little salivation right about there…."

Tjaeden's tail flickered angrily, resisting the urge to collide his fist into his friend's chest, and decided to transfer the stag to Läeda's waiting back instead. Ra'ziel gave another full-bellied laugh even as he helped Tjaeden lift the giant animal.

"**Bah**! Don't be sour, my friend, it was all in good fun…"

For a few moments, Tjaeden did not say anything. Then: "…Do you remember Aedion?"

Ra'ziel thought a moment. "Yes…but what does that matter?"

"That was _her_, you realize…"

"Obviously, being the blood of our _Yu'tari_," Ra'ziel said, beginning to strap the buck to the wolf's back.

"And you do not care? Did you not _see_?"

Ra'ziel shrugged loosely. "She was your friend more than more than mine…and she walks a different path from us now. Vindicator apprentices are often kept apart from the others, as you know…" here he flew up his hands animatedly, "Some "Holy focus" nonsense. I have seen little of her these past many years."

Tjaeden nodded once, concentrating on his task, although his mind already began to drift elsewhere. The image of her still burned brightly in his minds eye like a searing brand. That subtle saunter, that playful smile…

His friend finished his side of the tack with a loud creak of leather and peered at him curiously.

"Why is it you mention this…?" He asked.

"….I think I will Sight her," Tjaeden decided, causing his friend's grin to slip from his face.

"…_What_?"

"I said, I think I will--"

Ra'ziel held his palms up. "I know what you said, but you're **mad**, Tjaeden… Master's daughter and Vindicator both—I fear you're dealing with a double edged blade…"

Tjaeden shrugged defiantly with a final tug on the last leather strap around Läeda's thick girth. "You think I cannot successfully make her my own?" He turned around and looked his friend in the eye, causing the other to shift his weight uncertainly.

"I only think that you would be getting in over your horns if you pursue this…" he admitted, "Lightwalkers…are sometimes a group of their own…We are sometimes too different."

Tjaeden snorted at this. "_Yu'tari_ Taeredas walks with beasts, yet he is mated to a brilliant Lightwalker…!"

Ra'ziel nodded his head once, pursing his lips doubtfully. "That is true… However, although you are by far our finest marksman, you are no Taeredas—not yet, at least. What could you offer her sire and dam that would impress them?"

Tjaeden frowned slightly, studying his friend closely. "I would come to know her first, so that I wouldn't be such a stranger anymore… Last I checked we were also long past such primitive principals as simply _taking _females."

But Ra'ziel continued as if no interruption had even occurred. "Assuming that you _impress_ them enough for her dam to even _offer_ the trials, does not necessarily mean that Taeredas will deem your results _worthy_. Besides…we have our own path-walking trials to be concerned about—isn't that **enough** for now?"

"No," Tjaeden said bluntly, "It isn't."

Ra'ziel sighed and slowly shook his head. "Why don't you at least wait until you receive your Hunter's mark? Perhaps completing the seven trials will give you some sort of chance."

Tjaeden hesitated, but in his moment of pause Läeda defiantly tossed her mane and rumbled a low growl.

_And give time for someone __**else**__ to succeed where only __**you**__ should? I have no doubt that you will pass in these trials and receive your Mark, Tjaeden, but sometimes not all the preparation in the world will guarantee a fruitful hunt._

"Läeda's right…" Tjaeden decided, giving the she-wolf an appreciative pat. "Waiting will only give someone else an opportunity, and there is also no sure guarantee that my Mark alone would be enough."

"I just do not wish to see you set yourself up for disappointment, my friend," Ra'ziel sighed, "That is all… There is no guarantee that she would even _accept_ your courtship in the first place…!"

Tjaeden scarcely heard his friend, his thoughts fleetingly dancing to this old friend and new Vindicator, letting his mind wander into the territory of imagining such a female at his side. His chest swelled at the thought of having such strong, exquisite flesh for his own touch and possession…

He tore himself from his reverie with the finality of his decision.

"Well then, at least I have the daring to even _attempt_, Ra'ziel—but do _you_?"

With that, Tjaeden turned on his hooves and began making his way towards the city lifts, a single hand on Läeda's smug and loyal side, and the little white Talbuk calf following him step for step.

Ra'ziel rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. By the Light, when had his friend become so foolish?


End file.
